


So Fill to Me the Parting Glass

by K_T_Tara



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bilbo Baggins Is Awesome, Character Study, Emotionally Constipated Thorin, F/M, Female Protagonist, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kili is the smart one, M/M, Religious Discussion, Unresolved Emotional Tension, a different take, heavily celtic influenced character, on character insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:58:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4651350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_T_Tara/pseuds/K_T_Tara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn't want to die. She didn't want to then wake up in the Shire. She didn't want to meet thirteen dwarves and go on a stupid suicidal quest (which is ridiculous considering she's already dead). She didn't want to make so many friends with people WHO WEREN'T REAL. </p><p>But she's here, and obviously the universe doesn't care what she wants. Since she's stuck here, she might as well stop the damn Durins from getting themselves killed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of

"Almost done," he spoke up from the backseat, though he knew there was no reason to do so. For his partner had had her head turned at such an angle for the past ten minutes so that she could see his progress out of the corner of her eye. Which was terrible, really; she _should've_ been concentrating on the road and not him.

It was her job to be the driver of course, and he was trusting her not to drive their armoured truck into a ditch. But alas, as worrisome as her frequent glances were, he still trusted her superior peripheral vision and hand dexterity... at least enough to allow her behind the wheel. Still, she was damn lucky he was nice enough of a partner to tolerate her eccentricities. "There!" he exclaimed, holding up his project for her to see," Almost as good as yours."

In his hand he held a small piece of metal, bits of wire he'd molded into a triquetra. Alright, perhaps it wasn't as good as hers, which was usually a triquetra made out of finely wrought silver and encircled with a thin ring of some other metal he hadn't bothered to identify. (He thinks she may have once said it was pure iron.) But still, this worked just as well, didn't it?

"Thank you, Jim," his partner said quietly, a bright smile on her face. They were stopped at a red light for the moment, so she had the chance to actually turn back towards him. Jim handed her the trinket, not missing the way her smile grew when the familiar symbol met the skin of her palm. Her talisman, she'd told him and the other guards. A symbol she'd worn upon her neck for many many years, and some of the other guys had been curious about it. It was a sacred part of her family's belief, as dear to her as his cross necklace was to him. And so when she came to work that morning, harried from sleeping in too late, lamenting that she forgot her talisman, well they had to do something about it, right? So three of them dug around the shop for a good ten minutes, pulling up what random bits of malleable metal they could find and small pliers. So Jim took the materials with him on route, and spent a good while shaping the wires into a similar shape.

Anything for their only female guard. (Yes, they tended to spoil her, so sue them. It wasn't like she didn't pull her weight around, in fact she had even saved Sam's life once...)

At the moment however, she was tucking the makeshift talisman into the front pocket of her uniform and resumed driving when the light turned green. "Now I'll have two," she chuckled," For next time." He chuckled along with her, for this had been the first time in three years he'd known her to forget her dear necklace. It wasn't likely to happen again in the near future.

But still, it felt nice to help this little bit.

.......

She could feel the little talisman in her pocket and again thought how lucky she was to have such understanding coworkers. Her family's beliefs (she hated to use the term religion) were unique and sometimes looked down upon. She's been called many things: atheist, witch, heretic were quite common. Unsurprisingly, 'witch' was a favorite in their family and the women of her family delighted in the joke. Every Halloween, they would dress as witches and gallivant around their hometown to scandalize the old coots that called them devil-worshippers.

But her coworkers, her fellow security guards, never called her names in malice. In fact, all were remarkably understanding, even if their Crew Chief liked to call her _fairy child_. It was good to have partners who you could trust.

"Ugh," Jim sighed and collapsed back into his seat," Are we almost there?" Five hours in a 15-ton truck (not including the extra 3 tons of cargo) with practically no shocks was not fun. Not at all.

"At least you're not the one navigating this stupid city," she commented, steering round another road block. (With their cargo, she couldn't afford to be stuck in one place for too long.) A few other vehicles followed her lead.

He grinned wryly," I'll drive the way back if you want."

Her answer was a snort. "When we're empty and you don't have to worry about a couple million dollars in the back? How chivalrous of you. No, I'll be able to relax once we drop this off at the Fed." The Fed being the federal reserves. As secure as their truck was, the Fed's vaults were much better protected, with more guards and security checkpoints than just a tank of a truck and two armed guards.

Heavens above, she hated this route, even if they only had to do it once every other week. It made her nervous, paranoid even, looking for sign of-

"Do you see that truck to our right?" she suddeny asked, her voice going hard. Jim glanced out his window and saw the dark blue SUV," Yeah."

"It's been following us the last fifty miles."

At that, he straightened in his seat," Are you sure?"

She nodded," I've been keeping track of the license plate." Jim blinked in surprise," You've been-" then shook his head," Of course you have." Loosening his seatbelt so he could look further out the window, he tried to see the occupants of the SUV. The windows were tinted however.

"Don't suppose it's just coincidence?" he mused, already knowing the answer before she even shook her head. "The one in front of us too," she pointed out," Joined a couple miles before I hit the city limits and sticking to us like glue. Here, watch this." She flicked the right blinker on, and sure enough (now that he was paying attention too) the white SUV directly in front of them turned on their indicator too. And seemed quite determined to _stay_ in front of the armoured truck and not let them pass, even if she tried to switch lanes and speed up. The blue SUV disappeared from their side but a glance in the convex mirrors confirmed that it was now directly behind them.

The street they turned into was quieter, with less traffic. Neither of them liked it. "Hold on." That was all the warning he got before they took sudden left turn -with no blinker- and barely slowing down even. (Jim winced when he heard a bag of coin fall off the skid in the back.)

It caught the white SUV by surprise, but the blue one remained on their tail. And after pulling a U-turn, the white SUV soon caught up. "Damnit, damnit fuck," she swore loudly," Shit!" She couldn't lose them, not in this bulky of a truck. Now when their speed topped at 63 mph, the weight too heavy to accelerate, and too bulky to make sharp turns. And still half an hour from the Fed, they were on their own.

And with that little stunt of hers, now their pursuers _knew_ they'd been found out.

Still, she wouldn't just give up. Ducking in and out of streets, making sure the truck never came to a full stop or turning into a narrow enough lane where she couldn't turn if she wanted to. Jim was on the radio behind her, calling back to their home branch to tell them. She was dimly aware of him asking them to call the Fed and request back-up to their location. Just as he was rattling off street signs he saw go past, she turned right and-

-ran smack into a construction zone.

"Fucking city and its fucking construction!" she almost screamed upon seeing the orange barricade, and the broken up pavement beyond it. Even if she drove Big Max (their truck's affectionate nickname) through the barricade, that broken pavement would surely pierce the tires. They couldn't get through. A glance in the mirror then showed her the two SUV's proceeding to block them off the back way.

"Jim, hold on tight," she warned him, putting Big Max into neutral. Her eyes never left the mirrors, watching those SUV's and waiting to see what they'd do, but she knew he was mostly likely confused as hell. "What are you-" he started to ask...

...and she slammed the gears into reverse (just as four men jumped out of the SUV's) and hit the gas. Big Max _lurched_ and Jim would've gone onto the floor if not for his seatbelt. In the back, the skids of coin protested the sudden change in direction -one slid and banged against the holding door with such force that Jim feared it would break in- and currecy bags in the safe fell over.

Then they hit the SUV's and that's when Big Max lived up to its battering ram purpose. Outside, men threw themselves out of the way before they too were crushed between the truck and SUV's. Big Max barely stopped, it's weight vastly more than the measly trucks. It pushed them out of the way like snow banks vs a plow, and she could hear the metal screeching on both sides then continued on in reverse, using only the convex mirrors as guides.

 _Get to a main road, get to a main road,_ was her goal. Main roads meant more traffic. Traffic meant many witnesses and the occassional patrol officer. And no one would try to ambush an armoured truck in the middle of a crowd. And once they reached the Fed, _no one_ would dare attack that stronghold.

She just hoped she wouldn't have to pay for the damages to Big Max.

"They're back!" Jim shouted, pointing out the front window. Sure enough, both SUV's were back -with such delightful dents and missing fenders- and gaining. "That bolt holding?" she asked, referring to the bolted steel holding door, the only thing holding back the heavy coin skids. Jim affirmed and in a move that would've made her father proud, she turned Big Max around.

Slam on the brakes, kick into neutral, turn the wheel two rotations left; a sequence taught to her long ago by her father. A far away lesson in how to turn any vehicle into your bitch, the resulting lurch then slide underfoot felt comfortable to her. (Not so much to Jim) Once satisfied with the angle, she kicked back into forward drive and hit the pedal.

Too late she noticed the red stop sign, and too late she hit the brakes.

Then the semi hit her broadside.

......

(Well, at least they found the main road)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. All

The scent of grass and dirt and all things earth was familiar to ther. It reminded her of home, of times her mother took her out in the woods and they would just wander, marveling at the beauty of nature. Of times lying in the grass, watching the clouds above and feeling the wind on her tanned skin.

So when she woke up with that same smell in her nose, she knew it was not right. It was not the scent of metal or dust, or engine oil; the scents she'd come to associate with her work, of her truck. The last place she remembered.

"Jim!" she shot up, her head turning -much easier that one would expect, after a crash like that- in search of her friend.

What met her sight was not the interior of their truck, but lush green grass and oak trees. "What?" All around her was green and brown and blue, nature... just nature, with no city or trucks or bad men in SUV's in sight.

"Where am I?"

Better yet, where was her partner? The semi may have hit her side, but she distinctly remembered Big Max tipping over and-

She paused in the middle of standing up -again, much easier to do so that expected- and paled. That's right, they were hit... by a semi, probably pulling a trailer too. And now she was in a forest, with seemingly no injuries...

Dead. It was the only possible explanation. She fell back to the ground in horror, her heart plummeting at the realization. Dead. She was... no, she- she couldn't! But... but she was. She remembered the crash, the truck tipping over, the metal caving in... Tentatively, she touched the side of her head, where... where the metal door had caved in and... and she could _remember_ the steel colliding with her head, the blinding pain, then...darkness.

And now she was here, wherever here was. There was green everywhere, lush nature surrounding, and really she already knew. _The Garden_ , her mother had called it. The place they were all called to when they died, where their souls could live in peace forever. She almost laughed but it got caught up in her throat, of course it would be a lovely oak forest.

There was no denying it. She was... She was fucking _dead._ She just went ahead and died and she had no way of knowing if her friend even survived and-

-oh... oh no... she left _everyone_. Everyone in her life. "Carlin..." the name was hot lead in her throat, squeezing and choking her breath before it could escape. No, not her baby. Not her precious daughter! She went and fucking died and left her baby girl all alone!

 _No no no no,_ the tears could not be stopped now, and she buried her face in her hands. Not this. Anything but this. She didn't want to be separated from her child; she wanted to watch her grow up; be with her for all her birthdays.

She did not want to be dead.

.........

How much time passed, it was hard to tell. Hours for sure, for night had fallen and the forest grew dark. But perhaps the oddest thing was how her stomach rumbled. _I thought the dead didn't get hungry_ , she thought. Yet apparently she thought wrong, and she probably should get up and see if anyone else was here.

Walking was easy, a simple mindless thing and she welcomed the small task. A time of non-thought would be nice right now; she'd already done a lot of thinking. Too much thinking. She thought about her daughter, about how her life woud go on now that her mother was no longer there. She thought about what would happen, and thought maybe... just maybe she needn't worry so much.

She came from a big family, with lots of brothers and sisters, each with their own children. And the grandparents...And yes, Carlin's father would be there, though she really didn't put much stock into him. Good man as he was, there was a reason she was a single mother.

So that left her brother and sisters, already experienced with having big families of their own. Surely they would take in their niece, would most likely argue over who became official guardian. But that mattered little, for they were all close - _had_ been close, she reminded herself. She was no longer included- and they functioned as one massive family.

Her child would be okay. Knowing her family, at least she would grow up to be happy. Even if she wasn't there to see it...

Eventually, her walking brought her to a hill, over which she walked and then paused at the top. What lay before her was...

"Huh?"

Lush green grass, rolling hills... she recognized the round little doors in the hills, the cobblestome paths, the little fenced in gardens... "The Shire?" For how could she not recognize one of her favorite storybook locations?

But...how? Why? Was this what her afterlife was meant to look like? (Honestly, she was expecting the ocean coast, or the woods in which she'd grown up in) But why a place that wasn't even real? And if this _was_ the Shire... would there be hobbits?

One way to find out, she told herself and trekked down the hill. Which was, in fact, not a hill but a hobbit home and oh dear, she had been standing on their roof. The door was large and round and green, and just the tiniest of bits she felt comforted by it. Hobbit holes were supposed to be warm, comforting, and homely. Something she dearly wished for right now. Even if it was not her own.

Beneath her knuckles, the wood felt sturdy and surprisingly realistic. Would there truly be a hobbit within? A hobbit who-

Who was now opening the door. "Hello," she greeted, trying to be as polite as possible (even if she was dead, her mother taught her better than to be rude to strangers)," I'm afraid I'm a bit lost and-" then all words died on her, despite all her manners.

"Oh dear," Bilbo Baggins' eyes widened upon seeing her," Are you quite alright?"

She blinked a couple times. Then a bit more, just to be sure. For there was no way a 50-year old Bilbo Baggins had just opened the door before her, afterlife or not. He looked just like in the movies and she couldn't help but ask," Martin Freeman?" just to be sure it wasn't the actor. Which was, really, just as impossible.

Bilbo looked just as confused as her," Who?" When she didn't answer and continued to stand there like an idiot, he was soon ushering her into his home and fussing," Oh, are you hurt? Whatever happened to you?"

That was a good question, and she wondered how he could've known that she had just gone through some- Oh, that's why. She had glanced down at herself and realized that she was quite the mess. Her uniform absolutely torn to shreds, only her black sweater beneath intact, dried blood all down her left side and neck (though she knew there would be no wound to be found) and so much dirt on her. No wonder he fretted so. She must look frightful.

Huh, imagine that. She was being fussed over by an imaginary character. And he was certainly the character and not the actor in make-up. For one, she was certain Martin Freeman was not shorter than her, paltry 5 feet she was. And only a hobbit could have such big feet and pointed ears. Then Bilbo -it was _weirder_ to even acknowledge it was him in front of her- was pushing a soft blanket into her arms, still fussing. "I'll make you some tea," he was saying, turning to go to his kitchen probably," Yes, that should help." Still a bit shell-shocked, she had no choice but to follow him.

"What in Yavanna's name happened to you?" he asked.

"Ambush," she answered automatically, then regretted it when she saw the alarm on his face. "Not by robbers," she quickly amended and thought of something a tad bit less dangerous," Wolves, I mean." Oh crap, that wasn't any better. Hobbits are terrified of wolves, aren't they? She needed- she needed a cover story. Quick! "I was guarding a... a merchant caravan," well that was kinda close to the truth," and I got... separated." Yes, separated. As in she died and they did not, kind of separated.

Still, he looked visibly shakened and she realized she forgot to dismiss the wolves. His hands were trembling slightly as he handed her a dainty little teacup. Before he could accidentally drop it, she took it from him, her own fingers much steadier than his. "I'm alright," she reassured him, in a manner of speaking," And you don't have to worry about any of those wovles coming near." For there had indeed been no wolves to start with. "I killed them," she added, to further insist that there were _no wolves_.

The story fell of her tongue like water, smoothly and precise. Her quick wit and silver-tongue had always been both a gift and a curse. Growing up, her parents had utterly hated it, for she could not help but test it constantly. What stories could she tell, which ones would be believed? What was the perfect lie? Yet in her adult life, it was utterly invaluable, getting her out of many tight spots. Especially in her career as a guard.

So she weaved a short tale for Bilbo, that she had been hired as a guard to transport good and gold (not even a lie, that) but had been separated from the others. The blood was not hers, but the 'wolves' and she had walked a long ways to reach the Shire. When Bilbo asked where her caravan was now, she had to reluctantly admit," I do not know." There was no way of returning to them, and only she knew that there was in fact no caravan.

But then he had to go and suggest," Perhaps you can rest in the Shire until they come back." Well... never let it be said that Bilbo Baggins wasn't a mother hen when he wanted to be. Despite her protests, he refused to let her leave that night, not after all she had been through. He insisted she relax for the evening and if need be, she could stay with him until her caravan returned for her.

And that is how she found herself sitting before the hearth, freshly cleaned up and sipping tea amiably with a hobbit she would've thought imaginary. Her sturdy boots sat by the door and little feet (she marveled at how much smaller than his they were, though she knew her own to be quite tough) warming by the fire. While her outer shirt was beyond repair and they both agreed it should be trashed, her thin sweater was mostly intact as well as her black jeans. Which was lucky indeed, for she had nothing else on her save her key ring. The keys were useless now, but the pocket knife she would be able to use still.

And the talisman that Jim made for her.

"What's that?" Bilbo asked when she held it up to see it glint in the firelight. "My talisman," she answered, working the triquetra's rough edges with her thumb (her original had been as smooth as a river rock). "The fairy shield." Even if it was missing that circle of iron. When he asked a shield against what, she explained to him that it was the symbol of her family. Then she went on to explain it was her family's shield against strife, protected by the Triple Goddess, whom her family loved.

"Whether a single woman with three faces, or three women separate," she told him," She is the Young Maiden, the Nurturing Mother, and the Old Crone. Innocence, love, and wisdom all in one." Or at least, that was the simplified version.

Bilbo thought on this a moment, huffing on his pipe before commenting," Sounds a little like Yavanna." From what little she knew of Yavanna, she could not say for certain. So instead she nodded and said," A little, I suppose."

Just then, he jumped in his armchair, as if stung by a bee. "Oh my!" he exclaimed," I have been a terrible, terrible host!" He seemed most distressed and she could not for the (un)life of her figure out why. He had been exceptional, treating her so kindly, and for offering her comfort and company.

"I haven't even introduced myself!"

Oh... she blinked; she supposed that was true. Even if she already knew who he was, he certainly had not said so out loud. And he didn't even know _her name_! (Now, she flushed in embarrasment) Here she was invading this kind hobbit's home and she hadn't thought to tell him her name! Her mother would bury her alive if she knew.

"Bilbo Baggins," he bowed lightly," of Bag End." He gestured to his home to acknowledge Bag End as both his home, and his place of origin.

She smiled back at him and bowed her head. "Rowan Sauvageau," she introduced herself," of the People of the Forest." And she held up her talisman same as he had acknowledged Bag End.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. There is such a thing as the Triple Goddess. She is most associated with Wiccans, but is worshiped by many other pagan religions, one of which is Rowan's (Yes, Rowan is NOT Wiccan)
> 
> 2\. The triquetra fairy shield is also a real thing. It's the shape of a triquetra (look it up) which is used in many celtic arts and symbols. But with the circle of iron, it then purifies the symbol and acts as a shield. Iron is known for its supernatural properties, mostly in its repelling of ghosts and malevolent spirits.


	3. The

The Shire was everything Rowan had dreamed of and more. For the first day or so, she kept herself to Bag End, not quite ready to venture out and explore the rest of Hobbiton. She helped Bilbo however she could, even if he did throw a little fit when she tried to wash the dishes. ("My dear, you are a _guest_!") So instead, she went to the garden.

And it was magnificent! Flowers of so many kinds (she tried to name them all but there were a few that evaded her knowledge). If Bilbo wouldn't let her help with household chores, then she would help in the garden. Which was more a delight for her than anything really, because she sorely missed her own garden at home. So she kneeled down in the dirt and started pulling up weeds and dead-heading the withered flowers so new ones could grow.

It was peaceful and she felt her heart grow lighter with the work. Surrounded by nature, and gardening, it calmed her. Truly hobbitish of her, Bilbo commented once and she took it as a compliment. Which it probably was.

And that was how she met Hamfast Gamgee. He came over as usual to do some gardening, and Bilbo introduced them, telling Hamfast that she was a guest of his for the time being. Hamfast took one look of her, weeds in one hand and dirt on her cheeks, and declared her a right proper guest. Why, he half thought her a hobbit, until she stood up to her full height and he saw her little feet. (She didn't bother wearing boots here)

Then, without any prompting from Bilbo, he launched into a full conversation with her about gardening and flowers. Rowan was delighted, not having anyone to talk gardening about since her mother. When they started discussing the best times for planting, and how to get the soil to drain just right, Bilbo started laughing and gently excused himself. "Afternoon tea in the garden sounds nice, doesn't it?" he suggested and Rowan gladly went to help him prepare the meal of tea and sandwiches.

"Well you certainly know how to make friends with hobbits," he commented in the kitchen as Rowan busied herself with grabbing the right dishware. He smiled at her when she looked up surprised. "Hobbits love gardening," he explained," Especially Hamfast." Rowan grinned at that.

" Apparently hobbits love food too," she said, in reference to the seven to eight meals they had a day. Bilbo laughed out loud.

......

Rowan adored afternoon tea with Bilbo and Hamfast. She loved the simple companionship as they ate in the garden amidst the flowers on a lovely little table and chairs; she loved conversation with Hamfast; she loved what they both would tell her of Hobbiton and the hobbits that lived within it. She remarked that there weren't many herbs in Bilbo's garden to which he huffed and said," I prefer flowers, thank you very much." Then Hamfast mentioned that his own yard was more of vegetables and herbs, and offered to show her sometime.

And so that was where she spent her second day. Leaving Bilbo to his writings and readings, Hamfast showed her his own garden, teeming with herbs and vegetable and berries and she fell in love. An entire day straight, she helped him weed and cultivate and listened to his every gardening tip with complete enrapture. She even ate meals at the household and got to meet his family. Bell Gamgee was utterly endearing, and was exactly what Rowan expected in a hobbit lass. And their children, fauntlings as they called them, were _adorable._

She took to the little ones instantly, and they adored her in return. Soon the Gamgee children brought their own friends and Rowan found herself overrun by no less than six or seven fauntlings. To each one, she gave an odd little key, claiming they were to chests of treasure she'd hidden around the world over the years. To this very day, hobbit children can be seen trying to open every lock they could find with these little keys.

That night, she went back to Bag End with a small basket of lemon balm (a gift from Hamfast for watching over the children for the afternoon) and brewed some tea for herself and Bilbo.

........

It became clear to both Bilbo and the Gamgee's that Rowan had nothing on her except for the clothes on her back. Which weren't even in that great of condition anyways. So it was Hamfast's lovely wife, Bell Gamgee, that sought to rectify that. Despite Rowan not wanting anyone to pamper her, Bilbo jumped on board with Bell's idea and so an entire day was spent at the market. Bilbo wanted to get some food to restock his pantry, and to lend his purse to the women so that Rowan could get some new clothes made for her. (Rowan haggled with him and actually _bullied_ him into letting her do some chores around Bag End to pay for the clothes.)

Bell loved it all. Rowan and Bilbo's clash of wills (which honestly wasn't all that fun for either of them) and the shopping afterwards. The colors most favorited by hobbits didn't look all that great on Rowan -she visibly _cringed_ away from the bright yellow fabrics- and she wanted simple, practical outfits. Just two dark pairs of pants, which the seamstress grumbled about having to make them so long, and a few tunics.

"I think blue would look lovely on you," Bell declared, holding up a light blue tunic against Rowan to see how it matched. Rowan glanced down at the material, and agreed that blue was much better on her than that god awful lemon yellow the stall owner held out to her. "Yes, and another in dark blue, I should think," Bell nodded matter-of-factly and handed the sky blue tunic to Rowan.

As the gentlehobbit rifled through to find the right shade of blue, Rowan smiled and shook her head. While it was sweet of Bell and Bilbo to help her on this matter, it almost seemed like Bell was enjoying this much more than she was.

Still, when she tried her new outfits on later, mixing the new clothes with her old, even Rowan had to admit that it was a good idea. The leather pants were surprisingly comfortable, even after she tucked the light blue tunic in and secured with her own dark belt, then a dark blue slash over that to better blend the transition. Then she tucked the end of the pants into her boots to complete the look.

"There, perfect," Bell smiled at the completed outfit.

......

Bell Gamgee became a quick friend of Bilbo's house guest, and came every morning to whisk her away. Through Bell, Rowan got to see all of Hobbiton and met many other hobbits. Whom she soon found out that always loved good company, so she endeavored to be the best. Polite as could be, and making sure to be as jovial as possible, Rowan set out to capture the hearts of all hobbits. At her side, Bell laughed gayly, amused by Rowan's personal quest and promised to help her as best she could. Not that she had too much trouble, for it helped that the Gamgee children were often at their tails and each woman holding one of the smaller babes. (If a hobbit fauntling liked you, then you would be considered all right to the rest of the hobbits)

It was a bit amusing though, when Bell introduced her as Bilbo's houseguest. Rowan couldn't be sure, but she thought just a few seemed a tiny bit... envious. Which turned out to be true, because that very night Bilbo asked her why so many people kept coming up and asking him where he found such a well mannered guest. When Rowan told him of her mission to win all of Hobbiton's heart, he laughed just as Bell had.

"I'm sure you will," he nodded," Except for the Sackville-Bagginses. They don't like anybody." Rowan took it as a challenge.

.......

That particular challenge lasted a grand total of two days. With Bell's assistance, Rowan actively sought out the Sackville-Bagginses, particularly Lobelia. Tongue dripping with honey and sweet words, Rowan aimed to be as polite as possible to her. Complimented her umbrella even, which Lobelia was less than pleased about, until Rowan commented that it'd be perfect to clop unruly delinquents over the head. "Wished I had one like this whenever I was bothered on the road," Rowan fake-lamented," Could've swatted the rapscallions right over the head and taught them a lesson. Would've been even better if you were there with me, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins."

Bell professionally hid a chuckle, as Lobelia snapped her mouth shut with a click and looked Rowan over with a beady eye. Then with a swift nod, she bid good day to the both of them, and stomped along on her way. Once she was out of earshot, Bell and Rowan both were reduced to mad giggles. "Oh, did you see her face?" Rowan guffawed, delighted in the way Lobelia had been so surprised and that almost constipated look on her face!

"You are surely a sweet talker," Bell giggled," Honey tongued, you are!"

The challenge came to a head a day later, when a sharp knock came at the door. Without bothering to look out the window to see who it was, Bilbo opened the great round door, only to be faced with Lobelia. Rowan, who happened to be walking down the hallway, did not miss the upset look on his face when confronted with his relative. Then a thought occurred to her. A mad, insane thought.

As Lobelia began talking at Bilbo -about what, she never really did find out-, Rowan slapped a wide smile on her face, pretended she had just swallowed a spoonful of sugar, and entered the fray. She breezed by Bilbo and headed straight to Lobelia with a purpose, smiling like she was greeting an old friend. "Lobelia!" she cooed," So lovely to see you! Oh, you are just the lady I wanted to see." Out of the corner of her eye, Rowan could see the shocked and completely baffled expression on Bilbo's face, but she continued to concentrate on Lobelia. Without further ado, Rowan wrapped her arm around Lobelia's elbow and gently steered her away from the front door, dodging a small swing of Lobelia's umbrella as she went.

"I was just about to come visit your lovely smial," she continued, being as sweet and obnoxious as possible," I have a problem, my dear, and I could think of no other respectable hobbit to ask for assistance." Lobelia began to splutter, no doubt annoyed by the overly familiar way Rowan was acting, but she wasn't giving up.

"I saw Master Clayhanger at the market today, selling the most lovely umbrellas," Rowan explained," But for the life of me, I simply could not decide upon one. So I thought, who better to go to than you, milady."

And that's when she knew she had her. Behind the two women, Bilbo smirked, amused by Rowan's daring. Lobelia prided herself on being a 'proper hobbit' and so when Rowan directed her with this plea, such a formal and _seemingly_ heartfelt request, it would be most rude of Lobelia to refuse. Bilbo's smirk only grew when Lobelia huffed and proceeded to walk Rowan down the path, chiding her not knowing any better and on how important the pattern and material of the umbrella was.

Rowan glanced over her shoulder to wink at Bilbo conspiratorially, and he waited until he was behind the front door to start laughing loudly.

And when Rowan came strolling up the lane hours later, swinging an red and gold patterned umbrella in one hand, she had the largest smile he'd ever seen on her face. While Bilbo stood in the doorway as she approached, smiling and shaking his head at her, Rowan stopped just in front of him. She leaned on the umbrella, using it more as a cane than a weapon as Lobelia liked to. "Mission accomplished," she grinned, and they both enjoyed some chocolate cake in victory.

.......

One day, while enjoying second breakfast with Bell Gamgee, Rowan asked something that had been bothering her for a while. "You know..." she hummed," I had someone call me 'Mistress Elf' yesterday..."

Bell hummed noncommitally and continued mending a tear in Hamfast's shirt.

Rowan eyed her friend with a narrowed gaze. "It wasn't the first time someone's called me an elf." Bell hummed again, then said simply," Well that's because they think you _are_ an elf."

Rowan reared back in shock," I'm not an elf! I don't even _look_ like an elf!" To which Bell answered that no one here had actually _seen_ an elf before and so only had stories to go on. And from the stories they had, Rowan sure sounded a lot like an elf. "They say you can never get a straight answer out of an elf, for they'll say both yes and no," Bell noted," And you certainly have the silver-tongue of one."

Rowan opened her mouth and was about to speak with that silver-tongue, when Bell continued," Plus, you keep introducing yourself as Rowan of the People of the Forest. The _elves_ are the people of the forest."

"It's my surname," Rowan pouted," That's what Sauvageau means. 'People of the Forest'. My family has history of being woodfolk, never living in cities."

"Sounds elfy to me."

"No, it's not," she protested," We are called that because my ancestors use to protect the forest, they were called the King's Rangers."

Bell shrugged and started darning a sock," A Ranger elf, then."

"I'm too short to be an elf!"

At this, Bell eyed the young lass. Indeed, Rowan was quite small. Not as small as a hobbit, mind you, but not nearly as tall as one of the Big Folk. Only 5 feet tall, she didn't necessarily tower over any of them. But she was dainty. With a dainty little face, long legs meant for running and jumping, and tiny little feet with no hair on them whatsoever. If she were taller, and with pointed ears, she'd most certainly be an elf.

"A little elf, then."

Rowan groaned in defeat and gave up. And so, that's how she got her official title from the hobbits. Something they tended to call her quite often, much to her displeasure. But there were worse things than being Rowan Sauvageau, King's Ranger of the People of the Forest, Little Elf of the Shire.

And Bell Gamgee was proud to call her _friend_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The Sauvageau's are NOT made up. They've been dated back as far as the 14th century in France, specifically to the forest of Champagne and surrounding area. The word 'sauvageau' loosely translates to 'savage, wild one, uncivilized person'. The name was given to those deemed 'uncivilized' by city folk, to the people who preferred to live in the forest and did not take well to the city life. It was in later times, that the Sauvageau clan adopted the meaning 'The People of the Forest' as a way to remember their origins and not the crude names given to them by the rest of the French population. 
> 
> 2\. The Sauvageau's being called King's Rangers is also NOT false. There are a few documents calling them rangers, for they were known to protect the forests of Champagne. Being that poaching in the forests was illegal and considered a crime against the crown, when the Sauvageau's would act against illegal hunting in the forests and so protecting the 'King's game', they were then called the King's Rangers. In truth, they did not actively serve the kings of France as say, the Musketeers did, but had more of a loyalty to the forests in which they dwelled than anything. Being that those forests belonged to the king was more coincidence than anything.


	4. Money

In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a dirty, nasty hole, filled with worms and mud. This was a hobbit hole, and that meant good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home.

And this hobbit hole was called Bag End, and its hobbit was named Bilbo Baggins.

Bilbo Baggins loved his smial, the home left to him by his beloved mother and father, Belladonna and Bungo Baggins. Even if it was a very big smial, with far too few people. Alright, just _one_ person. One being himself. But Bilbo was okay with that. He was a confirmed bachelor, and it was unlikely that there would ever be anyone else living in Bag End.

Then a curious little woman came knocking on his door. Rowan Sauvageau, later to be known as King's Ranger of the People of the Forest, Little Elf of the Shire, was unlike any guest Bilbo had ever had before. That wasn't even counting how she came to Bag End, looking like some mad woman fresh out of battle. Which, as he found out, wasn't too far from the truth. He still shivered at the thought of it, ambushed by a pack of wolves, and for her to have killed them all by herself...

She must be very fierce, fiercer than she must look, to have come out unscathed. And yet, she was still separated from her caravan, lost in the Shire. She was utterly lost, and alone and in need of help and before Bilbo could stop himself he was offering his home as refuge.

As the days passed and Rowan acclimated to the Shire, Bilbo found himself approving of his decision back then and never regretted having Rowan as a guest. She was perfectly well mannered, endeavoring to be the perfect houseguest, even if she did keep trying to do his chores. And she loved gardening, as he discovered after he stopped her from washing dishes, only for her to go outside and start attacking the weeds as if it was a quest.

"Mighty kind of you, Master Baggins," Hamfast told him after meeting Rowan herself," to give her sanctuary until her caravan comes back." Bilbo blushed under the praise; he had only done what any respectable hobbit would do.

"I wonder how long it'll take for them to come back," Hamfast mused. Bilbo pondered this too, though he knew nothing really of Rowan's company. He wondered if they had far to go, if they came from far away lands. Would they continue on to their destination, then turn around and come for Rowan after they were done? Or would they start searching as soon as they realized she was missing?

Later that night, during after dinner tea, he asked her if she would tell him of her caravan. A long moment passed, then she told him. "We're hired to transport money from place to place, city to city," she explained what it was she did," I was the only woman, but I was just as good as the rest of them."

She told him stories of her brethren, of their personalities but not their names. Loud, unruly lads at the best of times, they liked to spoil her, their only female partner. Her talisman had actually been made by them when she lost her original one. (Bilbo endeavored to find her a small chain so that she could wear it around her neck instead of in her pocket. It was very likely to be lost that way)

One of her partners was rather young, just starting out and still a little shy about having that much responsibility. Another was rather fat, and while he looked a little odd he was still a fairly good guard. Two of her favorite partners were her age, and liked to make jokes all the time. Then their crew chief, the leader, was a cantankerous older man. "But he means well," she reassured him," He may have a rough sense of humor, but he's actually the one who trained me into my career."

She obviously missed them very much, and Bilbo wished they would come back for her soon.

....

A couple mornings later, Bell Gamgee came knocking at his door. "Good morning, Mister Bilbo," she greeted him, bright and cheery," Is Rowan about?"

"Umm," Bilbo stood there on the doorstep just a moment, thinking. He wasn't even aware than Bell and Rowan had met yet. At least, not the best of his knowledge. "Yes?" he answered -kind of-, wondering if Hamfast had told her about Rowan. Bell smiled widely," Wonderful. I was hoping to show her around today, show off the Shire, if I may."

Oh, well, Bilbo blinked thoughtfully, that would be a good idea. After all, they had no idea how long Rowan would stay in the Shire. It would be a good idea if she was familiar with the lay of it. And while it was a good idea, Bilbo wasn't quite sure why Bell was asking _him_. Rowan was her own person, she could do what she liked. Still, he beckoned Bell into the foyer while he went in search of Rowan.

He found her in his study actually, with a map of Middle Earth spread out before her. That was a pleasant surprise; he wasn't aware that Rowan enjoyed topography. For even after he told her Bell was at the front door and wanting to show her around Hobbiton, Rowan leaped at the chance. And so the two women were off, arms linked at the elbow, and chatting the whole way. Bilbo watched them go and only when they were down the lane and near out of sight, did he realize _domestic_ it suddenly felt. Like a father watching his daughter go off on a walking holiday. He burrowed his eyebrows; where had _that_ thought come from?!

........

While Bilbo ran his errands that day and the next, various neighbors of his came up to him to ask where he found such a well-mannered guest. At first, it confused him, for usually hobbits were distrustful of strangers, wary at best. But then Rowan returned from her walk with Bell, and told him of her plans to win over every hobbit in the Shire and suddenly it all made sense. Her impish grin was so reminiscent of the fauntlings running around, and he couldn't help but agree that she probably would. Except for the Sackville-Baggins, he pointed out.

(Oh boy, was he proven wrong on that assumption.)

......

One night, over dinner, Rowan asked him about the maps in his study. "What kind of maps do you have?" she questioned. Even though it was such a simple question, Bilbo was elated at her interest. There were so few people who liked maps, and woefully none of them resided in the Shire.

"All sorts of maps," he answered," I've maps of the Shire, and some maps of the west -those are the Blue Mountains, you know- and even a few going as far as the Misty Mountains in the east." Rowan listened intently, humming in agreement when he mentioned the Blue Mountains. When more questions came, Bilbo was absolutely delighted.

So after dinner, they retired to the study and Bilbo pulled out all the maps, showing her landmarks and cities. And she listened to every word, honestly interested in all he had to say, and he couldn't have been happier. Finally, someone to tell all the tales he's collected over the years, who didn't think him odd or mad for having lots of books and liking to read.

Yes, Bilbo agreed with his neighbors more and more. Rowan made an excellent houseguest.

........

"She has the look of a mother," Bell mentioned to him one day out of the blue. Bilbo spluttered in his tea and may have choked a little bit. What a completely random comment! Well alright, perhaps not completely out of the blue. They were sitting and drinking their afternoon tea while watching Rowan play with the little ones. Currently she was rocking the babe Daisy in her arms, humming a lullaby in order to put the little one down for an afternoon nap.

Still, Bell's comment was odd. "What makes you say that?" he asked her.

"Just a feeling," she hummed, a knowing little smile upon her face. Oh, well that was useless! Bilbo frowned, still not understanding what she meant. Perhaps she meant that Rowan was motherly? Which was kinda true. She was very good with the fauntlings, and would most likely be a good mother when she was older.

Yet in all the days Rowan's been at Bag End, not once had she mentioned anything of the sort. But he would not ask her, nor even mention it. It was, after all, rude to ask such personal questions when you've known someone such a short time. Perhaps later he might ask. Yes, later he just might...

(He forgot to ask later.)

............

For that night, amid the stories Bilbo told her (she had a fascinating love of hobbit tales and Bilbo always loved a good audience) mention of the Fell Winter came up. It was all quite by accident really, Rowan was telling him about her homeland and how half the year it was winter. Snow and ice covering everything, mighty blizzards that would blow the snow around into huge drifts as big as a smial, biting cold temperatures that nipped at one's nose, the familiar bundling heat of many coats and scarves and gloves. She spoke of it fondly -which he supposed was normal, being that winter was as familiar to her as summer was to hobbits- but just the thought of such a winter like that _every year_ had him a bit on edge.

She saw his discomfort soon enough. "I'm so sorry, Bilbo!" she cried, quieting about winters entirely," I didn't realize- Oh, I should've known!" Still he tried to reassure her. She had no reason to know; he doubted anyone had told her about the Fell Winter and... and all the pain that it had caused the Shire. The pain that it had caused him, and the loss of his father and eventually his mother. (It was a bit odd though, when he noticed her gazing up thoughtfully at the portraits of his parents, as if she _knew_ )

"It's... it's alright," he assured her. But still she looked guilty and spoke no more of her homeland, winter or not. A long, tense silence passed, neither of them talking and only sipping their teas in front of the fireplace. Gone was the companionable tales, the comfort of just talking. They were left to their individual thoughts, his a bit more morose than hers, as he thought of his late parents. His mother had missed her husband terribly, yet had held onto life for three more years until Bilbo reached his majority. That had been nearly seventeen years ago, and yet he still remembered the little song his mother made up. The one she would sing when she missed her dear Bungo Baggins.

Idly, Bilbo began humming his mother's song. A sweet, little song that spoke of longing and the hope that one day they would be reunited.

"Bilbo?" Rowan spoke, quietly, and Bilbo paused in his humming to glance at her. She looked as if she had seen a ghost. "How... Where did you learn that song?"

Bilbo furrowed his eyebrows, why did she appear so upset by the song? "My mother made it up," he told her," It was for... for my father. After he passed."          

"Oh..." Rowan exhaled, still seeming a bit surprised," It's just... well..." Then, as if she couldn't find the words to express what she meant, she began humming the tune as well. Which Bilbo thought normal, it was an easy enough tune, easy to follow along. So he joined the humming too, feeling a little more comforted to have someone to share in the song with.

Then... she started singing lowly.

                _'When the cold of winter comes_

_Starless nights will cover day'_

Bilbo coughed and spluttered into his tea, very nearly choking on it. "How-" he turned to her," How do _you_ know it?!" This was... this was most unexpected, and to be frank it was quite startling. To hear someone else who knew the words to his mother's song!

Rowan flushed and very carefully took a sip of her tea before answering "It's well known where I come from," she explained," We... well, we associate it with the Shire. I just...never thought it was actually sung here."

It _wasn't_. Bilbo was the only one to really know the song, having thought his mother had made it up. Yet, if it was common in Rowan's homeland... maybe his mother _hadn't_ created the song herself, instead picking it up. Which raised the question: did Belladonna Took once travel to Rowan's homeland and learned the song there? Or had someone from Rowan's homeland traveled all the way to the Shire and taught it to Belladonna?

He suspected he'd never get the chance to find out.

"If... you want, you can finish it," he told Rowan, who smiled in relief and started humming again.

                _'In the veiling of the sun_

_We will walk in winter lands_

_But in dreams_

_I can hea-'_

She suddenly started coughing, her voice breaking on the high note. A brief moment passed, before both of them burst into little chuckles. Rowan was decidedly pink in embarrassment, but Bilbo couldn't blame her. It wasn't like he could ever hope to reach that high of a note himself. "Maybe..." he suggested between chuckles," we can lower the range? Just this once?"

She promptly nodded," Just this once."

And so, still with a few chuckles and the mood much lighter in the room that it had been a few minutes ago, Bilbo started the song over. This time in a lower pitch, one that he was comfortable with and knew she would be too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Yes, Rowan's partners are actually based off of real people, despite what Bilbo will later assume.  
> 2\. Gee, I wonder why Rowan's so interested in maps of Middle Earth...  
> 3\. Rowan is not a soprano, can you tell? Still, has a lovely singing voice, but should stay away from the high notes when she can.


	5. That

Bilbo had many books, most in his study but there were a few bookshelves in the sitting room. He was a hobbit that loved books and reading and maps, which unfortunately was not a trait celebrated by the other hobbits. (Rowan had learned this one day when she overheard another hobbit gossiping about it in the marketplace. She almost marched right over and set the woman straight, if not for Bell tugging her away and demanding she don’t make a scene) But the fact still remained that Bilbo loved reading and books often cluttered up his home.

As an avid reader herself, Rowan was delighted to discover the rows and rows of books before her. Just imagine it, books from Middle Earth! Books _about_ Middle Earth! She could just imagine they were filled with stories never told in her world, stories that Tolkien had never written down, and they were all right here in front of her. Many of these books were probably written by Bilbo himself, and she couldn’t wait to read them.

Rowan trailed a finger over the spines of a row of them, imagining what they might contain. Would there be tales of hobbits, little bits and things that Tolkien never put in his writings? Perhaps there were more stories of elves, great epics that superceeded even the imaginings of a brilliant author. Almost reverently, Rowan picked up one of the books, dragging it off the shelf until it rested heavily in her hands. The cover was a dark brown color, a thick tome bound in leather with a hobbit-like design on the front.

Was it a history book? Was it a story book? _One way to find out_ , she thought to herself, and eagerly Rowan opened its pages.

Only to be very disappointed.

Expecting letters and words, and sentences to pop out at her, Rowan was not ready for the writings that met her gaze instead. They were almost… rune-like, she thought and tipped the book as if that would somehow make it clearer to her. No, they weren’t full runes, the letters were fairly English in nature. There were just… quite a bit of the alphabet missing, and arranged in a way she did not recognize. It certainly wasn’t English.

After a moment, Rowan tilted her head the other way, wondering if perhaps… No, that wasn’t any better. While the alphabet was closer to that of the Gaelic language, the words were decidedly _not_ Gaelic. Which was probably worse really; here she can read two languages, and this stupid book wasn’t in either of them!

What language _was_ this, by the way?

It wasn’t either of her languages, nor was it Elvish. As far as she knew, Sindarin did not use the alphabet like this, instead its writing was smooth and curly, like delicate little decorations. Nor was it Khuzdul, which she _knew_ was in actual runic alphabet. She flipped through a couple pages, but still the language remained unknown to her.

Sadly, she set the book back down and went to grab a different one. Maybe it had just been a fluke? But no, this next book was no better. The mysterious language was the same, one that she did not know and could not read. The second book was also put down.

This… this was… sad. Here were all these stories in front of her, and she couldn’t read a single one of them. And asking Bilbo to read them outloud was out of the question; she was not a needy child who demanded a bedtime story. (Even if it would be nice if he could translate the words for her). Still, there was no changing it; Rowan could not read them, and it was unlikely she would suddenly learn the language in her sleep.

But it never did stop her from occasionally picking up a book and looking at it in the hopes that one day it would make sense to her.

......

"Alright, I'm off to the market with Bell," Rowan turned around at the gate while Bilbo sat on his bench with his pipe," Would you like me to pick anything up for you?" Blowing out a smoke ring, he shook his head and waved a hand at her," No need. I'm planning on popping by there later today."

Rowan nodded in acknowledgment, then added," I'll be back late tonight, will most likely be missing dinner." At _that_ , Bilbo's eyes widened and he coughed on his next exhalation," _Missing dinner_?" She laughed merrily, as always not understanding the hobbit's need to never miss a meal, and waved his concern off. "It's alright, I'll just be helping Hamfast. He says he's got slugs on his cabbages and the best time to pick them off is when it's dark out. I'll just grab something to eat when I get back."

Bilbo grumbled under his breath," Miss dinner? Hah," but relented and waved her off. Still giggling, she closed the gate behind her and went on her way. He watched her for a moment as she headed down the lane towards the Gamgee's. Then he returned to his pipe.

Sometimes, he just couldn't understand how easily Rowan skipped entire meals at a time. Every day, only eating two or three times. No wonder she was so thin!

Oh well, a few more weeks in the Shire, and she'd soon plump out like she should. Content with that thought, Bilbo took another pull of his pipe and let it out in the shape of a smoke ring. He closed his eyes, utterly content to sit there and enjoy the morning. The sun was on his face, there was a nice perfect breeze blowing through the Shire, and everything was-

When all of a sudden, his smoke ring blew right back into his face, startling him. Bilbo coughed wildly, not expecting the smoke to go back _up_ his nose. By the time he cleared his airways, he was aware of someone standing at his gate. A very _tall_ Big Folk, with the strangest pointed grey hat atop his head...

 


	6. E'er

It was a quiet evening in Bag End. While in past times, this would be a normal occurence, quiet evenings with dinner by himself and perhaps reading a book by the fire, Bilbo felt a little more than perplexed at it. He had grown accustomed to his house guest, and all the noise and life she brought to the hobbit hole. To have the smial all to himself for the day felt... odd, not to mention he was on edge all day because of his strange visitor that morning.

Gandalf the Grey had been an unexpected guest, and unlike Rowan he did not make himself very welcome. Speaking of adventures and such, it was preposterous! A hobbit like him, going on an adventure? Nasty things, adventures, they interfered greatly with one's routine; Bilbo made a small quip about them making one miss dinner. (It was bad enough one occupant of Bag End was missing dinner that day, adding himself to the mix was just unrespectable)

But by the time Gandalf left (to which Bilbo will never admit that he _ran_ into his smial in retreat of the old man), Bilbo had been a right mess. Just the thought of going one of these so called 'adventures' made him jumpy, and he half expected Gandalf to come back and drag him along whether he wanted to or not. Stopping by the market later had been quite stressful. He'd spotted Rowan a little bit around noontime, as she was helping Bell Gamgee carry her shopping back to her home. (The human woman was considerably stronger than most hobbits, and had no trouble carrying two or three heavy bags where a hobbit would carry just one) They stopped and chatted for a bit, but Rowan seemed to be in such high spirits that Bilbo felt it unnecessary to make mention of his wizard visitor that morning.

By the time evening rolled around, having gone the entire day without a single glimpse of the wizard, Bilbo convinced himself that Gandalf had given up and moved on. He _had_ made it very clear that there would be no adventuring there, not today not ever. And so Bilbo set about making dinner, frying up two fish he'd bought from the market and setting one aside for Rowan. Knowing her, she'd forget all about supper entirely and he'd have to remind her to warm it up over the fire once she got home.

He paused a moment at that, going over the wording he'd used and that he'd just implied Bag End to be her home, but quickly shrugged it off. Best not to think about it too muh.

So he sat down to his dinner, grabbed a lemon half and had just started squeezing it over his trout... when there came a knock at the door.

 _'I **literally** just sat down,'_ was his first thought, both confused and annoyed that someone would be calling on him at this hour. It was far past the respectable visiting time, he thought as he headed for the front door, who in the _world_ could it be. No way it was Rowan, she had no reason to knock and could just enter as she pleased. The Gamgee's were with her, and Bilbo's cousin Drogo had just been there two weeks ago.

So imagine Bilbo's surprise when he opened his front door, and spotted a dwarf standing on his front porch. A tall dwarf, one easily twice the size of Bilbo, with a shiny bald head and the most frightening countenance he'd ever seen. "Dwalin," the dwarf gave a tiny bow," At your service."

Well... this was rather unexpected.

.............

Twelve dwarves and one meddling wizard later, Bilbo was ready to run for the hills. They were invading his home! Dwalin had eaten his _and_ Rowan's dinners, one of the younger ones had scraped mud off his boots onto Bilbo's mother's glory box, the other had dumped a bunch of knives and other sharp, pointy things in his arms (Bilbo then dumped those onto a nearby bench first chance he had), and they had completely raided one of the pantries. Completely! Gone! All gone!

Bilbo _fumed_ , enfuriated with these dwarves and their bad manners and horrible eating habits and-... and one of them was using one of his doily's as a napkin! "Excuse me!" he rushed at the dwarf with strange hair and plucked the doily out of his hands," That is a doily, _not_ a napkin!"

Another dwarf with a funny looking hat piped up," But it's full of holes."

"It's _supposed_ to be," Bilbo explained to him, exasperated," It's crochet." The hat-dwarf just grinned," Oh and what a lovely game it is... If you have the balls for it." And while he and a few others laughed, Bilbo fumed and put the doily onto a shelf, hopefully where no other confounded dwarf would pick it up.

"Confusticate these dwarves!" he all but snarled. Oh but how could he make them _leave_? What were they even _doing_ here in the first place? Gandalf, the wizard that was the cause of all this and of Bilbo's frantic state of being, had the nerve to ask him what was wrong? Hah! As if he didn't already know that he was the root problem of it all! So Bilbo let him have it, giving the wizard what he thought to be a rather hearty scolding, demanding answers, and expressing his frustration at having these ruffians invade his home.

Then, one of the younger dwarves (Bilbo assumed he was younger, he looked it and out of all the dwarves he appeared to be the least rambunctious) walked up and politely asked," Excuse me, I hate to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?" It was the first polite and respectable thing any of the dwarves had said to Bilbo all night, and while he was still extremely frustrated he was a bit gladdened to see _some_ manners.

"Here Ori, give it to me," another dwarf, the pointy-weapon-enthusiast, walked up on Bilbo's other side, plucked the plate out of Ori's hands and-

- _and threw it down the hall!_

Another dwarf, the one with muddy boots, had just been walking out of the kitchen with a lit pipe and happened to catch the flying plate. With a swift move that Bilbo wouldn't have believed had he not seen it himself, he turned his body and continued to fling the dishware into the kitchen. Where Bilbo hoped and _prayed_ another dwarf was present to catch it. There was no resulting crash or sound of dishware breaking, so he hoped that was the case.

Even still, the blonde one then threw another plate down the hall, and soon all of them were joining in. Throwing dishware everywhere, banging the cutlery on the table, and singing the most atrocious song!

                _'Blunt the knives, bend the forks_

_Smash the bottles and burn the corks_

_Chip the glasses and crack the plate_

_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!'_

Well now, that was just rude. Singing a song about him and of destroying his possessions, all the while flinging more and more of them around. Oh this was past the point of 'out of control' and to make matters worse, Gandalf wasn't doing a damned thing about it! In fact, the old troll of a wizard was laughing!

Where was Rowan when he needed her? Why, of all nights, did she have to be away so late? She was a fierce lass, a guardswoman, if she were here she'd be able to get these rapscallions out of Bag End. Or at least, he hoped she would. As soon as she returned.

                _'Cut the cloth, trail the fat_

_Leave the bones on the bedroom mat_

_Pour the milk on the pantry floor_

_Splash the wine of every door!'_

Bilbo watched in horrified awe as the youngster Ori made his way to the kitchen, carrying a stack of plates and bowls taller than himself. He hadn't even realized they'd used that many dishware. Still they seemed to be having a grand old time, half of them continuing to throw Bilbo's things around while the other half started playing on various instruments.

                _'Dump the crock in a boiling bowl_

_Pound them up with a thumping pole_

_When you're finished if they are whole_

_Send them down the hall to roll!'_

Bag End was filled with the dwarves' laughter and their music as they all simultaneously moved to the kitchen with the last of the dishware. Bilbo pressed after them, desperate to see what the state of his things were in. Pushing past one of them, he squeezed himself in between the blonde one and the weird hair shaped one as they sang out one last time.

                _'That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!'_

And there... there Bilbo saw all of his silverware and plates and bowls piled neatly upon the kitchen table, all in one piece and washed clean. Not a single crack or a single scratch. He could only be confounded and deeply surprised, but no less thankful even as they laughed merrily.

Then came three pounding knocks on the door and all laughter instantly ceased. Bilbo's head rose, eyeing each of their grim faces and wondering just _what_ had caused them to make those faces. "He is here," Gandalf spoke and Bilbo paled. Sweet Yavanna, _who_ was here?!

Gandalf swept out of the room, his long robe trailing behind him like a cloak, and was the first one to reach the front door. Despite it being Bilbo's home, Gandalf answered the door and Bilbo was tussled behind some of the dwarves as they converged to see the newcomer.

"Gandalf," a deep and (and Bilbo will deny this to his last breath) _delicious_ voice spoke," I thought you said this place would be easy to find." The last guest, _another dwarf_ , stepped into Bag End and started to untie the cloak around his shoulders. "I lost my way. Twice," he was saying, and Bilbo got his first glimpse of the newcomer. There was a flash of deep blue clothing and rich grey fur, with long pepper streaked dark hair, as the dwarf handed his cloak to the youngling that looked remarkably like him. "I would not have found it all had it not been for that mark on the door," he finished and turned around.

"Mark?" Bilbo finally fought his way to the front of the crowd, his head poking out past the bald dwarf and he shot a look at his front door," There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago." In fact, he remembered doing so quite clearly.

Gandalf closed the door and told him," There is a mark on that door. I put it there myself." And if that wasn't enough to make Bilbo dislike the wizard more, then he didn't know what else _would_! Honestly, going around defacing people's property? Did the man have no shame?

"Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf continued to speak, gestering towards the new dwarf so that Bilbo turned to finally get a good look at him," Allow me to introduce the leader of our company." _Ohh_... was Bilbo's first thought as the dwarf stood in front of him, height tall (tall for even a dwarf), arms crossed, and the regal bearing of a man who knew he was a leader. Bilbo thought he was the most handsome person he'd ever seen, Man, hobbit, or dwarf.

"Thorin Oakenshield."

Wait... did Gandalf say 'company'? As in, a company of dwarves? And _this_ was their leader? "Wait, did you say 'company'?" he asked Gandalf," This is a company?" Something seemed to rattle in Bilbo's mind, little flags going off and he glanced around at all the dwarves standing around them. A young, shy boy...a fatter man who looked a little strange...two boys around her age that loved to make jokes and play pranks...and a stern, older leader...

Sweet Yavanna, this was Rowan's company!

Bilbo gaped at them, even as the leader Thorin appraised him, saying," So this is the hobbit." Oh, he was sure he heard the dwarf add in an insult after that, but Bilbo was still trying to wrap his head around his recent discovery. Rowan's company! They had finally returned! She had never made mention that they were all dwarves, but they fit the description _perfectly_. There was no other explanation as to who they could be, and all of a sudden it almost made sense as to why they all came to Bag End. They've finally come to retrieve their lost guardswoman.

"Well it's about time you showed up," came out of Bilbo's mouth before he even knew what he was saying. The dwarf in front of him paused and his eyes widened, but Bilbo continued on. "Weeks later, that's how long it took you?" he scolded. Because really, for them to have taken this long to return for her, it was rather inconsiderate of them.

"What?" Thorin seemed almost confused as to why Bilbo was scolding him. And that only seemed to make Bilbo all the more upset. "It's almost like you weren't even searching," Bilbo berated him," You should've turned _right around_ and started looking for her the _instant_ you realized she was gone. But she's been here this entire time, waiting for you and your company to return. You're mighty lucky she found me, or else she probably would've been stranded out there in the woods."

"What do you have to say for yourselves, abandoning one of your companions like that?" Bilbo crossed his arms in front of him, a deep scowl of his own settled on his face as he faced down Thorin Oakenshield. The dwarf had paused in his circling around Bilbo, his back facing the door, and he stared at Bilbo with the most confused expression ever.

"My dear Bilbo," Gandalf spoke up," Who on _earth_ are you talking about?"

Bilbo scowled at the wizard he was already upset with. Oh please, like he didn't already know. Gandalf was the one to lead them here. Surely he was the one to tell them where Rowan was taking refuge. "Rowan," he exclaimed," Your guardswoman. She's been stranded here, in the Shire, waiting for her company to return."

The dwarf leader, Thorin, furrowed his eyebrows, both thoroughly confused and deep in thought. Behind him, the other dwarves started murmuring. At last, it was Thorin who spoke up. "You must be mistaken, hobbit," he drawled," There is no guardswoman among us, Rowan or otherwise."

Well, that... Bilbo blinked, that couldn't be right. They had to be Rowan's company. Who else could they _be_? "What?" he breathed," You're not... well then, _who_ -"

"Bilbo!" he was cut off when suddenly Rowan yelled from the other side of the front door. Thorin turned in surprise and leaped back when the door burst open. "Bilbo, the dwarves are-" Rowan rushed in-

-and bowled right into Thorin, colliding with him and sending herself to the floor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. I've

The day was like any other. The morning went much the same, as did her afternoon, which she spent entirely with Bell. She had helped her with the shopping for a bit. There had been one interesting run-in when Lobelia of all people pulled her aside. Luckily, Rowan had decided to carry her umbrella around that day (the fauntlings like to play with it) so the glance Lobelia gave her had been the tiniest bit of approving. But then the hobbit lass had asked where Bilbo was and that he was not at Bag End when she went calling on him. Rowan half thought that Bilbo _had_ been home, and merely did not answer the door, but kept that thought to herself.

"I'm sure he's out and about, Lobelia," she told her, then promptly grinned at her," Would you care to do some morning shopping with us, dear? We can always use another helping hand to carry the groceries." And that successfully drove the Sackville-Baggins away, much to Rowan and Bell's delight.

Later on, they did actually run into Bilbo at the market. He had appeared to be a little agitated, but she chalked that up to Lobelia successfully tracking him down. Bilbo always was a little agitated after a bout with that woman.

Then after shopping, Rowan spent most of the day with the hobbit children, at least until Hamfast required her help with the slugs once dusk fell. So she and the fauntlings played in the woods, first searching for elves, then for fairies. Then she taught them how to make rabbit traps out boxes, sticks, and strings. More often than not, their bait -a slice of pie- would catch other faunts that rabbits. But it was a howling good time and they had fun.

So when all was said and done, and all slugs picked off the cabbages, and Rowan was gifted with a basket of carrots, it was well past dark when she made her way back to Bag End. And when she approached the round, green door, a glint of bluish-silver caught her eye. There was a rune on the door... "Bilbo!" she yelled, throwing the door open and running in, hoping to catch him before Dwalin or more showed up," Bilbo, the dwarves are-"

....and she ran smack dab into Thorin Oakenshield.

"Oof!" Next moment, Rowan found herself sprawled on the foyer floor, staring up at Thorin's surprised face. "-coming," she finished lamely, wishing the earth would just swallow her right now. Yeah, that would be nice. Because there were a million different ways to make a good first entrance, and this was not one of them.

Bilbo rushed around Thorin to help her up, helpful as ever and probably using her as an excuse to busy his hands because no doubt before she entered Thorin had been insulting him and calling him a grocer and such. Still, it was nice to have him at her side as Rowan eyed the dwarf king warily. Who was now staring back with no small measure of suspicion.

"Ah, this must be Rowan," someone spoke up, sounding a bit too cheerful considering some strange woman literally just crashed the Unexpected Gathering. Rowan tilted her face up, then up some more, and into the smiling face of Gandalf the Grey. Good grief, he was tall! She knew she was short, but this man towered over her like a goddamn tree. Yet she couldn't dwell on Gandalf's immense height for too long, for then her eyes strayed to the twelve other dwarrows. All of them. All of the Company was here.

"The guardswoman?" Thorin spoke up, taking a step back to give her and Bilbo some room (a considerate action she was not actually expecting), even if he sounded doubtful. Rowan drew herself up to her full height, which astonishingly -and disappointingly- was the same as his and eyed him with just as much suspicion. He was about to say something really rude, she just knew it.

"She looks more a seamstress than a guardswoman."

And there it was. Despite expecting it, Rowan found herself quite offended. She knew she didn't look much right now; hair wild and out of its usual ponytail, simple clothing, and dirt probably smeared on her cheek. But she was no bonny lass. For one thing, she refused to wear skirts, something very uncommon here in Middle Earth. And she hadn't the first clue on how to sew. "Excuse you," she frowned at him," I will have you know I am Rowan Sauvageau, King's Ranger of the People of the Forest."

Alright, so maybe it kind of felt good to use the title given to her by the Shirefolk. It certainly made her feel a little impressive.

Thorin's frown lessened a miniscule bit, just a miniscule, but it was enough for her. "King's Ranger?" he echoed," What king do you serve?"

Rowan pretended to be haughty and flicked some dirt out from under her nail," None. My family has never found a king worth serving." Which was partly true. Despite her family's lineage, they had not chosen the nickname, nor did they ever actively serve the King of France.

"Then why call yerself a 'king's ranger'?" a dwarf, Bofur she saw, spoke up from the crowd. So Rowan told them the truth," Because commonfolk are stupid and called us that, despite us never actually swearing any allegiance. And I'm not one of _the_ Rangers of the North or South, so I cannot claim the title of just 'Ranger'."

Thorin snorted," A title then, nothing more."

"Watch it," Rowan snarled back," I am still just as much a King's Ranger as my ancestors. And you and I both know a title is never just 'nothing', _King_ Thorin Oakenshield." _'Fuck!'_ she soon realized her mistake and bit her tongue, but it was too late.

Too fucking late. Thorin rounded on her, his expression fierce and eyes narrowed," How do you know who I am?" He was every bit as terrifying as the books wrote him, but Rowan was headstrong and foolishly fearless in the matter of battle, and so just sidled away from him. In the background, she could also see Bilbo mouthing ' _King?!’_ which amused her and greatly alleviated any fear she might have had of Thorin.

So instead, she focused on Gandalf, who stood off to the side and looking far too amused. She should rectify that. "Gandalf, how wonderful to see you again," she greeted in an over-the-top sweet voice, the same way she always dealt with Lobelia," It's been far too long, my friend." She finished this with a smile, to which Gandalf gazed back with an eyebrow raised and the looks as if he might burst out laughing.

Then Rowan turned back to Thorin and gave him the same smile. He had the same mannerism of Lobelia, this would likely work. "Gandalf told me of the dwarf king he was searching for, and you have such a regal bearing that I could only assume it was you," she fake explained, trying to sound as sincere as possible in the fake words. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fíli and Kíli muffle snickers and cover their smirking mouths with their hands. So they saw through her guise, but hopefully Thorin was a tad more gullible.

The future King Under the Mountain shot a dark look at Gandalf," You told her of me?"

Rowan very discretely knocked Gandalf's shin with her boot, praying he'd be just as much a troll as in the movies and go along with it. "Yes, Rowan is an old acquaintance of mine," her relief was great when he eventually spoke, and his smile and tone was just as 'sincere' as hers was," Though... I was not expecting to find her here..." He fixed an eye on her," In the Shire... with Bilbo."

She smiled widely at first him, then at Bilbo, who was still floundering in shock," Bilbo most graciously took me in when I had some troubles."

Gandalf nodded sagely, as if knew. "So I hear." Wait, _what_? Did... did Bilbo _tell_ them? Gandalf was still looking at her with a mixture of amusement and suspicion, and Rowan knew she'd eventually have to tell him the truth. Or at least part of the truth, and hope that he somehow knew what was going on with her. But there was no way she could do so in front of the Company; she would have to speak with him in privacy. "Well, let us continue to the dining room," he announced.

As the dwarrows filed back into the dining room -except for Balin who said he'd find some food for Thorin- Bilbo pulled Rowan aside. "You..." he shook a finger at her, then just sighed greatly and let his hand fall," You are not part of this dwarven company..."

Rowan raised an eyebrow, wondering what on earth he was talking about. "Noooo," she agreed, smiling amusedly," I am not. In case you haven't noticed, they're dwarrows and I'm not."

"Yes, I have noticed," he snapped back at her," It's just..." he trailed off, and she could've sworn he was turning the faintest tinge of pink.

"Bilbo... what did you do?"

"... I yelled at a king..." he said quietly, and yes his face was turning red. Rowan paused, and took a good long moment to compute what he just told her. Bilbo... yelled at a king... Bilbo...yelled at... Thorin? "Oh my god," she breathed, as she realized what he was admitting to and the chuckles escaped from her slowly at first then increasing in number.

"Stop it!" he scolded her, swatting her gently on the arm," It's not funny."

"You gotta admit, that is a little funny," she giggled," You yelled at him. I don't think he's ever had a hobbit give him a scolding before." Bilbo glared at her some more. "What possessed you to yell at a dwarf you just met?"

He mumbled something under his breath. "What was that?" she asked again.

Bilbo sighed and told her," I thought they were your company. I was mad that they took so long to come back for you, so I scolded them for leaving you here in the first place."

 _Oh_... Rowan instantly sobered up, an expression of surprise falling on her face. He had...done it for her. In defense of her, and what he perceived to be the wrongs done to her. It was... incredibly humbling. "Thank you," she said, and hoped that her eyes conveyed just how much she truly was grateful to him, both for his hospitality and his defense of her," Truly."

"It's nothing," he shrugged," I was wrong anyways. Made a right fool of myself, I did." No, he did not. Not in the least, and Rowan held a bit more respect for him because of it. But before she could voice these thoughts, he was dragging them off to the kitchen. "Come on, might as well try and get some dinner while we can," he said," And tea. I really need a cup of tea right about now."

..............

In the kitchen, the dishes and silverware lay on the table, all cleaned just like they had been in the movies. And the only food left was a bowl of soup simmering over the stove. At least they thought to leave some food, though most likely it was always intended for Thorin. But this was Bag End, and being that Bilbo was the owner and Rowan the invited house guest, they helped themselves to it as they pleased.

Balin was in there as well, pouring some soup into a clean bowl for his king. Though when Bilbo set the teapot on the stove for the tea, he asked if he could stay around to wait for it. Bilbo was preparing to boil plenty of water for tea, and knew there would be enough, and agreed. So there the three waited, sitting patiently at the kitchen table while they waited for tea.

Bilbo was the first to break the silence," Rowan, do you really know Gandalf?" Both he and Balin looked expectedly at her, and she very carefully ate a spoonful of her soup, thinking of how best to explain. She trusted Bilbo, but knew she had to be very careful what she said around Balin. He was smart, very smart, and she knew that whatever she said here in the kitchen would get passed onto Thorin.

"Yes, and no," she eventually said," It's a rather complicated thing."

"How so?" Balin asked. "Hmm," Rowan hummed, and explained," Let's just say, in my homeland, Gandalf is very _very_ well known. More so than here." She threw a meaningful look at Bilbo, hoping he would understand.

It appeared he had. "It's one of Those Things, isn't it?" he said, and she nodded. Those Things, being something so odd about her homeland and its relation with the Shire that it simply _couldn't_ be explained. The first of Those Things, had been the matter of Belladonna's song. And to this day, he still wasn't sure how the song actually originated.

And so the matter dropped, for now, for neither Bilbo nor Rowan brought it back up again. Even if they both knew it eventually would be brought back up. Just at a later time.

Then Balin commented," You said Gandalf told you of Thorin..." It wasn't a question, but she could hear the underlying one. He wanted to know what else Gandalf 'told' her. "Just the basics," she replied, and left it at that.

"Wait..." Bilbo's head shot up and he fixed her with such an accusing look," Did you know they were coming tonight?"

Rowan laughed at that. "No, this was the last thing I was expecting today." At least that was a full truth. She had not been expecting the dwarves tonight, or any time soon. Despite her knowledge, Rowan had no idea when the Unexpected Gathering took place, or even how the calenders differed here in Middle Earth.

"I am sorry, Bilbo," she apologized," I should've been here earlier." Not only did she miss the gathering and the song, but it must've been hell on poor Bilbo. He nodded in agreement," Yes, well, I kept hoping you'd show up and throw them out."

Balin's brows shot straight up and Rowan laughed; that was the most unhobbitish thing she'd ever heard Bilbo say! While _she_ knew Bilbo was unhappy about his unexpected guests, Balin was probably scandalized to learn that their host wanted to throw them all out. The only way that statement could've gone better was if Bilbo had said it in front of Thorin.

She laughed long and loud, even after the teapot whistled. Balin shakily asking if that was truly Bilbo's wish only made it better. "Oh, he's completely serious," Rowan answered for him. While she wouldn't throw the dwarrows out, this was just too fun of an opportunity to pass up. "You lot invaded his home, cleared out his pantry, and made yourselves quite at home in someone else's house. And you weren't even _invited_ ," she berated him," How would you like it twelve complete strangers came and tore apart your home, without so much as a by-your-leave?"

To his credit, Balin looked positively horrified. "You mean?" he gaped, turning to Bilbo," But we _were_ invited, Gandalf told us to meet here. The mark-"

"Yes, well, I didn't _know_ about the bloody mark," Bilbo sassed back at him," Or...or this...supposed party you were all invited to have in _my_ home. Not that any of you listened anyways. Just barge right in, why don't you?" He continued to frown at Balin, who had been one of the first and had completely ignored Bilbo when he originally tried to explain the situation.

"I am _terribly_ sorry," Balin apologized profusely," We truly had no idea that Gandalf invited us here without your knowledge."

Bilbo's frown didn't lessen. It appeared it would be a good long while before Bilbo forgave them for it. As he should, Rowan agreed, make the dwarves work for it. So with a huff, he grabbed his tea and marched out of the kitchen, Rowan close on his heels. Who couldn't for the life of her, stop giggling.

...............

Thorin sat among his kin, exchanging greetings and hugging his nephews for he had not seen them since they left the Blue Mountains. He tried not to think of the hobbit with the temper and the guardswoman who the halfling had mistakenly thought to be one of theirs. The halfling was... well, different came to mind. He was small, much smaller than Thorin realized hobbits to be. Though now he understood why they were called halflings.

He wasn't sure if he liked that he was so small. How much use could a being so small be on a quest as large as this? Even if he were to become their burglar, he didn't look anything like it. More like a grocer than a burglar, actually. But... Thorin had also been taken aback by his own...notices of the hobbit.

There was no beard whatsoever on his face, had the most unruly but golden-red hair Thorin had ever seen, bore large pointed ears that reminded him all too much of elves, and walked with feet that seemed inappropriately big for his body. Thorin shouldn't find the hobbit attractive at all, yet there was no denying the handsomeness of him.

Thorin already knew the halfling was a headache waiting.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted said hobbit exit the kitchen in a huff, followed closely by the woman. Shortly after that came Balin, carrying a bowl of soup and a cup of tea. He was most grateful for the food; the journey here had been long and tiring, the meeting of the clans even more so, and he had not had a good meal in what felt like ages.

But just as Balin set the food down, he leaned and whispered in Thorin's ear," We do have slight concern on our hands." Bells instantly went off in Thorin's head and he ignored the food entirely for the moment. What was the concern? What could possibly have gone wrong in the five minutes Balin had spent in the kitchen?

Balin sighed," It appears Gandalf told Master Baggins absolutely _nothing_ about our arrival."

Thorin's eyes widened. "Nothing?" The hobbit hadn't even known they were coming?

"The lass made it quite clear that we have intruded upon a private home, with no invitation nor expectation."

 _Sweet Aüle_ , this was a disaster! Due to the wizard’s incompetence (or deliberate sabotage) they had suddenly been turned into disrespectful home invaders! Oh, if Dís were to ever hear of this, she'd have all their beards. She would. Thorin glared hotly at the wizard -who was currently speaking merrily with Oín as if he hadn't done such a damned thing- then his eyes sought out the hobbit in question.

He stood against the wall, quietly eating his own bowl of soup and watching the dwarves interact among themselves. At his side was the woman, her own bowl forgotten in her hands for her eyes were scanning his Company intently. She was picking them all apart, one by one, and Thorin caught a glimpse of what made her a guardswoman. It was that cautious, all sweeping gaze that looked familiar to him, for he had seen it from guards back in Erebor and later in Ered Luin. Though at the moment, she looked more like Master Baggins' guard dog than anything.

Then her eyes landed on him, saw that he was looking their way, and held his gaze. Her eyes narrowed almost unperceptively, almost daring him to look away first. Meager intimidation tactic, and Thorin scoffed that she even thought she could use such on him.

Still, the hobbit was busy enjoying his meal. Thorin would apologize for the behavior of his company later. Or, that was his plan, until he saw her break away from the hobbit's side and make her way over to Gandalf. Despite the wizard sitting right next to him, Thorin could not hear what she whispered to him.

But when Gandalf's expression turned to one of intrigue and he glanced at him, Thorin was understandably concerned. Then the woman, Rowan, turned to him and said," We'll be in the study." She left them and returned to Master Baggins' side, before the two were off, presumably to the study.

With a deep sigh, Gandalf turned to Thorin. "I should think," the wizard said very carefully," you might wish to hear this."

...........

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I know I wasn't the only one who thought the dwarves incredibly rude to just barge in like they own the place. At least Rowan isn't afraid to point it out to them.


	8. Had

The hobbit and woman were indeed waiting in what appeared to be the study, as Thorin could see by the impressively sized wooden desk and strewn about papers. There were many writings, and gave Thorin the idea that perhaps the halfling was a writer. Or a scholar at the least. But then his blue eyes turned to the two waiting and all thoughts of writing and scholars left his mind.

The woman, Rowan, stood with her back to the desk, facing all of them with a critical eye. Her apprehension was betrayed, however, by the way she fiddled with the necklace around her neck. It was nothing more than a thin strip of leather, as if ripped away from a seam, and bore a metal symbol that he could not fully see past her fingertips. To her side, the hobbit was left glancing between her, and he and Gandalf as they entered the study.

Gandalf was the first to enter, taking up a substantial amount of space due to his size in the hobbit home. Thorin was then left to sidle up next to the hobbit, as that was the only remaining space left in the room. The study was small, probably not meant for four people (three of them bigger than hobbits), and became even more so crowded when Gandalf shut the double doors behind them.

“Thank you,” the woman was the first to speak, speaking to Gandalf in reference to shutting the door,” I’d rather the less people know this.” Know what, Thorin wondered, and even his curiosity was tempted. Just what was she so intent upon saying, that she’d call them to this small room and close the doors, in hopes that no one would overhear?

“Rowan…” the hobbit shifted besides Thorin, and the dwarf king tried, with difficulty, not to notice the way it made the smaller being shuffle just the smallest bit closer to his side. Really, all he had done was lean the weight from one foot to the other, but Thorin was painfully aware of the way it now made the hobbit lean slightly more towards him. But Bilbo’s front was faced towards Rowan. “What’s wrong?” he asked her.

A deep sigh escaped her, and her hands flew up to her face. The heels of her palms dug into her eyes, rubbing as if to both chase away a headache and –this was mere speculation- it almost seemed like she was trying to hide her face. In what? Shame? Embarrassment? “Everything,” she answered with a groan,” Everything’s wrong and I don’t know how to fix it. I’m sorry, Bilbo, I’m so sorry. I’ve been lying to you this whole time, and you really didn’t deserve that, but I _panicked_ and I just didn’t know what to do. And you were so kind, and I didn’t know how to explain it before, but now Gandalf and the dwarves are here and I don’t have any more time and-“

“Rowan. Rowan. _Rowan_!” Bilbo threw up his hands to make her pause in her rambling,” _Slow down_!” It worked, well enough, for it got her to stop and take a deep breath. “Now,” the hobbit continued, speaking slowly and precisely so that she would match the pace he set,” Start from the beginning and explain. What do you mean, you’ve been lying this whole time? Lying about what?”

He was being spectacularly calm for someone who’d just been told they’ve been lied to. Thorin was baffled. She had just admitted to not being honest about anything; if Thorin were in his shoes –or lack of- he would be furious. He’d be enraged that someone dare lie to his face day in and day out. Yet here the halfling was, more worried than angered.

“Alright,” Rowan spoke, matching her tone and speed to match that of Bilbo’s, and Thorin turned back to her, curious to see what lies she was speaking of. “First things first, I guess…”

“There is no one coming back for me, I’m afraid,” she started out,” I had a crew, but there was no caravan. And there were no wolves, but there _was_ an attack.”

Well… that was unexpected. “Wait. But…” the hobbit stammered,” But you’ve been waiting here… for your company to come get you. And what do you mean ‘no wolves’? You _were_ attacked,” he waved a finger at her, either in frustration or just his need to gesture with his hands,” I saw the state you were in that night, young lady. You were attacked-“

“-by people,” she quickly corrected,” People after money and coin.”

Thorin blinked; when had money and coin become a factor in this conversation? “A raid?” he asked. All eyes then turned to him, and Rowan nodded. “Why?” he then questioned,” You said there was no caravan. Why would you be attacked for money and coin?”

“Bilbo told you I was a guard, yes?” she asked, and he nodded. Glancing between him and Bilbo and Gandalf, she explained,” I’m not that kind of guard. I don’t guard places usually, I’m not a bodyguard, and I’ve never been hired out to guard any caravan. Our business, my _crew_ , we’re what you would call ‘ _armored transport’_. That’s what we do. We transport money, and-“

“-and that’s why you were ambushed,” Thorin finished for her. She nodded once more. “This doesn’t explain though,” he frowned and crossed his arms,” Why lie about it? Why lie and say you’re waiting for a crew, when you know they aren’t-“ It was then he noticed her eyes rove over to the wizard, who up to this moment had remained silently watching.

Oh. _Oh_. “You…” Thorin mused, now understanding,” weren’t waiting for your crew…” His eyes also turned to Gandalf, still silent, still watching. At Thorin’s side, Bilbo was looking frantically between the three of them, especially as both human and dwarf were gazing at Gandalf. “What?” Bilbo blinked rapidly,” You mean?” He turned back to Rowan,” You’ve been waiting… for _Gandalf_?”

If the situation were any lighter, Thorin might’ve been amused by his dubitable tone, as it was clear the hobbit didn’t put much stock in the wizard. ‘t would do the meddling wizard some good. As it were, though, the woman Rowan was entirely serious as she replied,” If anyone can get me back home, I’m hoping it would be Gandalf. Because I sure as hell don’t know how to.” She glanced back to Gandalf, who nodded that he would do his best.

“Easiest thing would be to follow the same path in which you came here,” he began. Rowan gave a small huff, and clicked her tongue, amused,” Won’t work.”

Gandalf frowned, but persisted,” Come now, just think back. You said you were traveling when you were ambushed. What road did you travel upon?”

“I-94.”

Gandalf nodded before really hearing her,” There, now we-“ He paused, wondering she gave him a number and not a road name,” What road?”

With a barely there smile, Rowan repeated,” I-94. It stands for Interstate Highway 94. Passes through at least ten states and goes from the west coast all the way to the east coast.” All three of them gaped at her, especially at the mention of an _east coast_. No one had been that far east, it was nothing but desert! “We were in Minneapolis, which is one of the biggest cities in Minnesota,” she was grinning now,” And you have absolutely no idea what either of those places are, don’t you?”

By Gandalf’s bewildered expression, she wasn’t wrong. But then, neither had Thorin ever heard of such places. And _what east coast_?! “Rowan…” Bilbo was the first to speak,” Are you…” He didn’t even need to finish asking, she was already nodding and her wry smile was now a grimace.

“I’m from far away, Bilbo, very _very_ far away.”

“Then how did you _get_ here?” Gandalf demanded, and her expression finally broke.

“I don’t know,” she cried,” _I don’t know._ I was there, and then I just _woke up_ in Bindbole Wood and I don't know how to get back home."

…..

Wherever the wizard and his king went, Dwalin did not know, but they were gone for quite a long time. (He had also noticed that the halfling and woman were missing at the same time.) It was a long while, and some of them –mostly Dwalin- were getting worried. It wasn’t until Thorin and Gandalf returned, followed closely by the hobbit and the guardswoman.

Hah, guardswoman. She was too tiny to be a guardswoman, too dainty, and Dwalin couldn’t see her swinging any sword larger than a dagger. Much like the hobbit, he didn’t put much stock in her. Even if she did act considerably different, more confident in the way she moved, and –dare he say it- almost fearless. Upon returning to the dining room, the hobbit puttered around, while she plopped herself in the only remaining empty seat.

The one right next to Dwalin. He leveled a stern gaze on her, but with coo, piercing eyes she stared right back. It was slightly unnerving, truth be told, as if she could see something he couldn’t. Then the wildest thing happened. She smiled at him, as if whatever she had seen greatly satisfied her. “Rowan, at your service,” she greeted him, giving a bow as well as she could while sitting down.

Both bewildered and yet amused, he had no choice but to reply with, “ Dwalin, at yours.”

And so the conversation went on around them; only half of his attention focused on his, the other trying to figure out the odd lass sitting among them dwarrows. The whole time, she had been playing with the bit of metal wire hanging around her neck. And when Ori declared he’d stick some dwarven metal right up the dragon’s jacksie, she was the first to raise a fist and yell,” I’d pay to see that!” Even Bifur gave an approving slap to her shoulder from her other side.

Then that blasted hobbit had to go and faint. Dwalin didn’t know what surprised him more, the hobbit fainting, or the fact that the lass tried to hide a giggled behind her mug. “Oh Bilbo,” she sighed, and was the first to rise and go revive the halfling.

‘What an odd human,’ he decided.

…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This chapter did not want to be written… Sorry if it seems stale and dull. I promise the next is better


	9. I Spent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relevant songs:  
> 1\. 'Song of Exile' by Rota Temporis  
> 2\. 'Song of the Lonely Mountain' by The Dwarf Cast

The movies had done Bilbo Baggins no justice, though that was not Martin Freeman’ fault. He was just acting –though brilliant acting, at that- while Bilbo was truly and legitimately frightened. His talk with Gandalf had been no help to his nerves, and Rowan could see the way Bilbo’s hands shook around his teacup.

Oh Bilbo, she thought morosely, he really has no idea how brave he really is. So after Gandalf left, she took the seat opposite him. Bilbo pointedly did not look at her, instead focusing quite intently on his tea. “Surely your tea is not that interesting,” she mused.

He just huffed and took a sip. “You…” he hummed, a slight waiver to his voice. Upon discovering how his voice shook, he cleared his throat and tried again,” You want to go with them, don’t you?”

 _Oh Bilbo_. “I haven’t fully decided yet,” she admitted truthfully,” But… It’d be kind of pointless if you didn’t come with.”

He grew quieter and stilled in his seat, and Rowan knew that to be a good sign. Even if he did eventually shake his head, so hard that his curls bounced back and forth. “Just think, Bilbo, all that we’ll see,” she pressed, leaning forward in her chair,” Mountains and forests older than the Shire; new people to meet with their stories and songs; entire cultures to be learned about.” Bilbo perked up at that and she had to squash down a smile; she knew he’d hear that part. There was little Bilbo loved more than a good story.

But a mere moment later, he seemed to remember his own reluctance and settled himself deeper in his armchair. “You’ll have to send letters back and tell me about it,” he spoke meekly and that was the last straw for her. Goodness, no wonder Gandalf was frustrated! Bilbo was every bit as stubborn as Thorin.

“You’ll have to send them yourself,” she snapped at him,” You belong on this quest just as much as I do. More so, since you were actually invited.”

He glared back at her, and she almost cheered. Meek was not a good look on Bilbo, and she preferred when he let himself speak his mind. “They need a burglar, which I am _not_. So you can go instead, and I’ll just stay here. There, problem solved.” No, problem _not_ solved. “You’re mad if you think I’d make even a decent burglar,” she scolded,” You’ve seen me try and sneak. I’ve absolute shit at it.”

He was forced to chuckle at that. Yes, she was horrible at any sort of sneaking. Once, she had tried playing hide and seek with the hobbit children… it had probably been the most embarrassing day of her life.

“They need you, Bilbo.”

His smile fell, and despite the glowing fire, the room somehow seemed darker. “What can I do?” he asked, his own voice small and little,” I wouldn’t last one day out there.”

“Do you really think they’d let anything happen to you?”

Silence was her answer. Great, she had a frightened hobbit on her hands, and he had no reason to trust the dwarves to keep him alive. Not with Thorin and Dwalin belittling him at every chance. _‘Stupid dwarves,’_ she cursed in her mind, _’ I’ll throttle you both the first chance I get.’_ “Do you trust me, at least?” she questioned and his head shot up.

“What?” he breathed, surprised.

So she repeated,” Do you trust me to keep you safe?”

“Gandalf couldn’t even promise I’d come back.”

“One thing you need to learn about Gandalf is that sometimes he is an old, riddling fool and getting a straight answer out of him is like pulling teeth.” There, that at least earned a half hearted smile from him. “You have my word, Bilbo Baggins, that you _will_ come back,” she promised him,” You will come back to the Shire and Bag End will be waiting for you. This I swear.”

For the longest moment, he said nothing. Only staring at her with such an inquisitorial look, as if she had spoken nothing more than utter nonsense and he was trying to make sense of it. Honestly, it was starting to unnerve her. “Bilbo?”

Then, he suddenly asked,” How can you be so sure?”

He didn’t sound scared anymore, only baffled, and she could physically feel the relief. Confused was much better than fear. Confusion she could deal with. “Because I have hope,” she told him truthfully,” You know as well as I do that there is always a tomorrow, and I’ve always cherished the hope that whatever happens, I will get to see that sunrise.”

She pulled out her talisman, her precious triquetra, and held it in her palm. “You once asked me why it was called a shield. Because it _is a shield_. Against strife and despair, and all the things in the world that make us lose hope. This may be small, and just made of bits of metal, but it’s stronger than it looks. Much like a hobbit, no?”

The talisman glinted in the firelight, a burnished gold color emanating off it. The light caught in the grooves of where the wires twisted and pinched. “This little symbol has carried my family for generations, all the way from my ancestors to the King’s Rangers to what we are now. So little, but so strong and full of hope and courage.”

“And that is what _you_ are, Bilbo, you just need to see that…”

Neither spoke; he did not answer her and Rowan didn’t dare speak any more. They just watched the little trinket between them, each lost in their thoughts. The room was quiet, and Rowan knew that some –most likely Gandalf- were probably watching on. But she did not care about anyone else, she was solely focused on Bilbo and what he would say.

And then… Bilbo sighed,” I’m sorry. That’s not what I am.” He stood then, his tea long forgotten on the table,” That’s not the kind of hobbit I am.” And with a quiet goodnight to her, he toddled off to his room.

 _‘I think…I may have just fucked everything up…’_ Rowan despaired as he went. She was changing things that was for sure, and maybe not for the better. What if Bilbo never came? What if what he suggested actually came to pass, that she take him place on the quest?

Rowan was confident in her own abilities, her gift to weave words into prose and her basic survival knowledge. But she was no Bilbo Baggins. She was not light on her feet, she was no hero, she could not make people smile the way that Bilbo so effortlessly did, and she definitely could not tell riddles. Were it just her, they’d never make it past the Misty Mountains. Probably not even past the trolls.

And who would get through to Thorin once the gold sickness got hold of him?

No, the Company needed their Burglar. And that burglar had to be one Bilbo of Bag End. Then again, in the story, he _had_ changed his mind in the morning. Perhaps it would be the same this time around…despite her meddling.

“You are wise for one your age,” a deep voice spoke and Rowan glanced up to see Gandalf,” Hard to imagine you as just a simple woman who is lost.” She almost scoffed; it wasn’t that simple.

Tucking away the talisman into her palm, she turned back to the fireplace. “My mother always said I have an old soul, she used to say she could see centuries in my eyes,” she snorted,” But then again, she’s always so whimsical and she likes pretty words.”

“Pretty words or not, you should heed her counsel,” he leaned against the mantle, but his eyes were not on the fire. “Am I correct in guessing she is the one who instilled that belief in you?” he questioned and gestured to her talisman,” May I see it?”

Rowan took it off from around her neck and handed it to him. “She did, for as long as I can remember.” Gandalf hummed and inspected the triquetra, which looked hilariously tiny in his large hands. “This is not the one she gave you, however…” he mused.

In reply, she laughed bitterly,” I forgot it at home. I made such a fuss, that the guys made-“ she cut herself off, her teeth clacking shut. Gandalf said nothing, just watched her quietly. “There were only two of us when it happened,” she finally admitted,” Just me and Jim. But there were more of us. More guards,” she explained,” All with different routes, different destinations. But we were close. We looked out for each other. Even if some of us were a little…different.”

She stared at the talisman in his hands,” People used to call my family such horrible things: witches, devil worshipers, cultists, demons. They ridiculed us and called us dangerous. But we never did any harm, we never actually _did_ any magic… We just… believed it was real; to us, the magic of the earth around us was real. And that made us different.”

“But the other guards, my crew… they never called me witch. They never treated me badly. And when I lost my talisman, they made me a new one.”

And it ended up being the last thing they did for her.

“It was made out of friendship,” Gandalf spoke, handing her the talisman back, carefully and reverently,” I think you will find that there are few magicks more powerful.”

Rowan believed him.

……

The dwarves had Bilbo’s hobbit hole back to sorts in short time, working together to put tables and chairs back. Dishes were washed, and Bifur dutifully put them away. Rowan was fascinated by his Khuzdul, but even more so by his Iglishmek. It reminded her distantly of ASL, and though she didn’t know much, she knew enough to introduce herself. He recognized it, and then his hands began flying in sentences so fast she couldn’t keep up. In the end, she had to shake her head and apologize,” I only know a little.”

He accepted it and Bofur added,” Still, it’s good of you to try.” Then Bifur patted her on top of her head on his way out to the parlor and Rowan pondered the chances that she might’ve just endeared the dwarf to her. Which could only be good, since Bifur was cool and all, and Thorin had yet to decide to allow her on the Quest or not.

Now, all the dwarves sat in the parlor, their only light being that of the fireplace. Never one to be afraid, Rowan situated herself right in the middle of it all, huddling up next to Ori. Poor lad looked mighty nervous to have her sitting so near him, that she could only mentally shake her head at him, _’ Oh wee lamb…_ ’

But she had missed their dinner song. There was no way in hell she was going to miss the Song of the Lonely Mountain!

Thorin stood by the mantle, staring into the fire, and Rowan knew it would be any minute now. She could hardly sit still. The song she adored and one she sung her daughter at night, and now she had a chance to hear it straight from the dwarves themselves…. Carlin would be so jealous, and Rowan quickly pushed away the thought that she’d never get a chance to tell her about it.

Before she could delve too deep in her depressing thoughts, Rowan noticed Fíli and Kíli reenter the room, and she _knew_ , she just knew that-

-that Thorin would move to leave? What, no! He wasn’t supposed to just _leave_! He was supposed to start the Song. But…but there he was, bidding his nephews goodnight. No, she couldn’t let it end like this. There would be singing tonight, even if she had to start it herself!

                _“Land of bear and land of eagle_

_Land that gave us birth and blessing”_

The Durinfolk froze and all at once thirteen pairs of eyes turned to her.

                _“Land that called us ever homewords_

_We will go home across the mountains”_

Thorin and his nephews especially turned to face her, various looks upon their faces. Rowan noticed that there was a smile on Fíli’s face, his whole face lighting up and making his entire demeanor seem warm and content and inviting.

                _“We will go home, we will go home_

_We will go home across the mountains”_

Kíli looked positively enraptured, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. His expression was once of awe and surprise, and she smiled merely upon seeing it.

                _“We will go home, we will go home_

_We will go home across the mountains”_

And then there was Thorin. His expression was almost unreadable. Almost. Yes, there was surprise, but then there was something else. Something… darker, more melancholic. And then she realized it. It was the words of her song. They rung a little too closely to his own plight.

                _“Land of freedom, land of heroes_

_Land that gave us hope and memories”_

Rowan suddenly doubted her wisdom in singing this song, even if it just came to her without really thinking. It was just a song she loved, but she never before realized how well it fit the dwarves of Erebor. It was almost as if it was made especially for them.

                _“Hear our singing, hear our longing_

_We will go home across the mountains”_

And Thorin certainly knew it.

                _“We will go home, we will go home_

_We will go home across the mountains”_

When Fíli joined it, Rowan very nearly jumped out of her boots. His voice had been clear, but deeper than hers and created a delightful harmony.

Then, because one brother could never be left out, Kíli chimed in next.

                _“We will go home, we will go home_

_We will go home across the mountains”_

Their voices faded soon after the chorus, not knowing the rest, but her own voice continued on strongly, encouraged now by their backing.

                _“Land of sun and land of moonlight_

_Land that gave us joy and sorrow”_

Yes, it was a song of exile, and while sad, she knew it was full of hope. Part of why she loved it so much. It was more than just a song; it was a declaration –if you will- of the singer’s determination to return home. Whether it be the Slavics of the Middle Ages, or the dwarve of Middle Earth.

                _“Land that gave us love and laughter_

_We will go home across the mountains”_

So imagine, to Rowan’s utmost surprise, to hear the rest of the dwarves chime in on the next chorus. Their voices rich and deep, and though her own voice low pitched, it rang out like a bell in comparison.

                _“We will go home, we will go home_

_We will go home across the mountains”_

Great goddess above, even _Thorin_ was singing.

                _“We will go home, we will go home_

_We will go home across the mountains”_

They faded away after that, not knowing the next verse. ‘Yet,’ she thought happily, upon hearing a scribbling sound to her left. There was Ori, with parchment, writing furiously and no doubt writing down the words he heard.

                _“When the land is there before us_

_We have gone home across the mountains_

_We will go home, we will go home”_

And just like that, all their voices rose again in one last stanza

                _“We will go home across the mountains_

_We will go home, we will go home_

_We will go home across the mountains”_

Then the room fell utterly silent, for the song was over. The only sound that remained for a moment was Ori’s quill pen on parchment. Finally, Fíli broke the silence,” What song was that?”

Rowan considered giving them a fake name, saying it was just a song of home. Maybe distract with a short tale of King Arthur and how it pertained to his knights. But no… Fíli asked what song, and they deserved to know what they had just sung. “The Song of Exile,” she answered quietly. Sure enough, all of them frowned, making their own connections to it.

“A lovely song, lass,” Balin spoke, diplomatic as to be expected. Rowan tried to smile at him, but found the room too somber for such. Even when Kíli and his brother moving from their spots to sit on the floor near her and Ori.

“Do you have any like it?” she asked before she could realize it and stop herself.

“Hmm?” Balin rose an eyebrow.

“A song of home?”

He opened his mouth –presumably to tell her- but then a deep humming cut him off. Even without looking, Rowan knew instantly that it was Thorin, for all around her the dwarves’ heads turned towards their leader. Even before following their lead, before he started singing, she knew the song.

                _“Far o’er the Misty Mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old”_

Soon, the other’s joined in and all around her were deep dwarven voices and warm tones. It was every bit as spectacular as she dreamed.

                _“We must away, ‘ere break of day_

_To find our long forgotten gold”_

Their voices were so deep, so low and soft. She could find no other description other than _warmth_. It was like a warmth that settled over her, wrapped her in its embrace, settled down to her very bones. Goddess, it was like she could _feel_ the vibrations in the very air.

                _“The pines were roaring on the height_

_The winds were moaning in the night”_

Or maybe the warmth came from the dwarves on either side of her. On one side there was Ori, and then Fíli and Kíli on her other side. All three were like furnaces and dimly she wondered if all dwarves were so warm. But her mind was a haze, that she had trouble concentrating. It had been so long since she’d felt this warm… It and the song lulled her, wearying her already weary bones.

So warm…Tamping down a yawn, she could not help but close her eyes and tilt her head.

                _“The fire was red, the flaming spread_

_The trees like torches, blazed with light”_

Distantly, she thought her head was laying against something soft –a shoulder?- but couldn’t be certain. She felt too comfortable and secure, too warm and reminiscent of years long past. She felt… well, secure was the only word for it, the most she had in a long, long time. And for the first time since coming to Bag End, Rowan closed her eyes and for once did not see a semi coming towards her, did not remember the sound of metal on metal, did not feel the fleeting memory of it hitting her…

All she saw was her daughter, smiling brightly.

……

Fíli knew it even before he heard the small squeak from Ori. Rowan was fast asleep, her head cushioned so perfectly on the young dwarf’s shoulder. Ori stiffened up, daring not move lest he wake the sleeping girl on his shoulder. Fíli had watched her head droop lower and lower, saw her leaning ever so slightly to the left, and he wondered. She had been so weary, so bone tired. Had it been the earlier conversation with Uncle? Or her later talks with the hobbit, and then the wizard that had been so heavy?

Heavy conversations indeed, far too heavy for one so small. Gandalf said she was of Man, but Fíli had never seen one so… tiny. By his beard, she was only as tall as Thorin! (Maybe she was not full Man, and in fact part dwarven? Most likely hobbit actually, since she had no beard)

Fíli glanced up upon the ending of the song and saw their uncle gazing at all four of them thoughtfully. (Ori was trying _very_ hard not to move.) “Is she coming with us, Uncle?” Kíli, dear sweet reckless Kíli, outright blurted. Fíli couldn’t help but roll his eyes, but he also shared in his brother’s curiosity. What of the mysterious conversation before the meeting, what had been said then?

Thorin’s thoughtful expression did not turn sour, which was a good sign, as he inspected the sleeping woman’s face. His head turned this way and that, as if hearing –or remembering- words no one else could. “I believe her tale to be true…” he mused quietly.

Yet his nephew was still confused, and Fíli was about to ask for more clarification when he felt a small tugging at one of his braids. Kíli caught his eye, and Fíli knew his brother enough to know that he knew _something._ So he shut his mouth.

“Alright Ori,” Thorin stepped forward to pick up the lass,” Give ‘er here. Everyone else, get some rest. We leave a first light.”

….

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Song of Exile. I recommend the version sung by Rota Temporis. The accent is the closest I can find to Rowan's own accent (yes, she has a slight Scottish accent, sorry I didn't make that clear earlier) and this is by far my favorite version.  
> 2\. There is also a slower, more haunting version of Song of Exile called "We Will Go Home" by LEAH, if that's what you prefer. But it does not match the one sung in this chapter.  
> 3\. I have pointed this out earlier, Rowan is not a wiccan. If it had to be given a name, her family's beliefs are closest related to druidism, though they are more neopagan than traditional


	10. It In

~ _A Memory of Bag End~_

You could learn all there is to hobbits within a month, yet after a hundred years they’ll continue to amaze you. Gandalf had once said that. Or rather, he _will_ say it. Someday, one day far in the future, when a young Frodo Baggins will willingly pack up and leave the Shire. All for the sake of protecting his people from the Ring, all because it was the right thing to do.

Some had wondered, even speculated how one hobbit could’ve been so selfless, so keen on doing right, risking his very life to destroy the Ring. It was until after Rowan met his uncle, Bilbo Baggins, that she understood it was something Frodo inherited from him.

"There, all set," Bilbo announced proudly, stepping back to admire their handiwork and dusting his hands all at the same time. Rowan side-eyed him, more than a fair bit astounded yet no less grateful that he would even consider doing something like this. But if Bilbo had any regrets about giving her her very own room in Bag End –and insisting upon it being _hers_ and not just a guest room any longer- then it did not show on his face.

_‘How can he be so selfless?’_ she pondered; it had only been two weeks. Barely time had passed since she showed up on his doorstep, and yet somehow it already felt like an age. Perhaps that was simply how it was in the Shire. All was peaceful and (not altogether) quiet, and time moved _so slow_ here, that a day could feel like a week, and a week could feel like a month. Two weeks in Bag End, and Rowan was becoming familiar with the smial.

When the day came that Odo Proudfoot (apparently yet another one of Bilbo’s cousins) came to the door with carpentry and tools, Rowan had not a clue. It wasn’t until Bilbo enthusiastically greeted him and ushered him in, then they got to work in the guest bedroom, that she figured it out. Odo was a carpenter; Odo was hired by Bilbo; Bilbo had Odo build Rowan a proper-sized bed. Had she been made of less sterner stuff, the mere implication would’ve floored her. Bilbo was truly making this room _hers_

"So what do you think?" he asked once Odo had been paid and sent on his way with a couple muffins. At first, Rowan didn’t have an answer for him, still staring at the new bed in awe. Gently, she ran her fingertips over one of the rounded posts. The bed before –which was moved to another guest room- had been hobbit sized; with her own short stature it hadn’t been unbearably small, but had been cramped nonetheless. This new bed, with four posts and a wooden headboard and linen mattress, was Man-sized. She could easily fit in it without hitting either head or toe.

It was too much for her, an unexpected guest, and she tried to tell him as such, but Bilbo was as stubborn as he was selfless. "It’s-ah, it’s been what, two weeks now?" he noted, thinking briefly," I believe it’s safe to say that this is your room now."

"I’m just a guest," Rowan pointed out half-heartedly, more focused on the little flowers she’d just discovered carved into the footboard. Bilbo let out a sound she recognized as a mix between a chuckle and a huff," And a mighty fine guest you’ve been. You’ve got all of Hobbiton and half the Shire wrapped around your little finger."

A gross exaggeration, they both knew, and Rowan actually couldn’t stand many of them. Lovely as hobbits were, most were entirely too dull and some were so uptight about manners and properness. Why, just the other day, Bilbo’s aunt Linda stopped Rowan from running down the path to give her a half hour lecture on how a "lady should gracefully walk, never run like a hooligan." The old ditty had then tried to convince Rowan to walk around with a book balanced on her head! Rowan promptly came up with the excuse that she was late for afternoon tea with Bilbo (nevermind that it was two hours too early for tea) and ran off before Linda could go find a book.

The story had amused Bilbo later, as they eventually did actually sit down for tea in the garden.

"And even when," Bilbo’s voice broke her out of her daydream," your company comes back, this will still be… well, that is… if you ever drop back by… I mean, I’ll always still see this as-" Frustrated by his own lack to find the proper words – a trait he showed often that Rowan (and Bell) found utterly adorable- Bilbo huffed and rolled his eyes heavenwards. "What I _mean_ to say is," he spoke, determined to just spit it out," even when you’ve left, this will always be ‘Rowan’s Room’."

That made Rowan pause and heed his words. ~Rowan’s Room~ Her very own room at Bag End, even if she wasn’t there. When her company comes back, he’d said, and she felt a wave of guilt wash over her. Could she ever tell him that there _was_ no company coming back? What _could_ she say? Tell him she’d lied to from the beginning, told him a story she’d made up on the spot? Even if Rowan never told him, he’d figure it out when more weeks passed and no one came looking for her. Day after day would pass, and she would remain.

Could she remain at Bag End, in this cozy room and fill with little things to make it hers? Would Bilbo even let her? (Silly question, that. Of course he would.) Or would Rowan move out, get a smial of her own. Nothing too fancy, just enough to fit her.

Or would she leave the Shire entirely? There was a whole world out there to discover. A world that had once been only accessible through words and stories and maps. A fantasy world come to life before her very eyes. Could Rowan sit back in the Shire and leave it all unexplored? Or would she dare risk to see everything?

She breathed deeply and let it out slowly. No, she would stay her for a little while. The Shire was peaceful and (not altogether) quiet, and bit by bit she was feeling her soul mend itself. The pain would never go away, she knew that, but here she could lose herself in the task of gardening, or cooking, or whatever took her fancy. Here she could laugh and be free in a way she never could’ve been in the modern world.

Here, the Shire was a comfort and Rowan had been craving comfort for entirely too long.

She turned to Bilbo, smiling. "I suppose that means I’m now Rowan of Bag End?" He smiled in response," Not a bad title, that." Then his smile turned quirky," Almost as good as Little Elf of the Shire." Rowan groaned at the stupid nickname.

"Not an elf!" she clamored for the umpteenth time, but Bilbo simply laughed it off like always. He knew her not to be an elf –he was far too educated- but he enjoyed her frustration when so many other hobbits believed her to be.

So with a few more jokes at her expense, he ushered her out and into the kitchen where they could have their supper. And if her complaints were half-hearted, then she barely noticed. And if her thoughts kept returning to her room, she didn’t bother correcting herself with ‘it’s the _guest_ room’.

Because she was Rowan of Bag End, and she had her very own little spot in this hobbit hole to call her own.

Not bad, indeed.

……

~Present Time~

" _And if you do, you will not come back the same."_

_"Do you trust me to keep you safe?"_

_"Will you take this chance to take back Erebor? To take back our homeland?"_

So many voices. Why did there have to be so many voices? Bilbo couldn’t concentrate, for all the noise in his head. And let’s forget a moment about the actual noise in his home, just outside his bedroom door. (He hoped those noises meant those insufferable dwarves were picking up after themselves.)

‘Those dwarves’. The very ones who wanted him to go with them on some mad quest of theirs, to fight an actual _dragon_ of all things! No, this… this was madness. Complete and utter foolishness, something any sensible person would automatically go ‘no thank you!’ to. Especially a respectable hobbit, like himself.

Although…

No! No, Bilbo reminded himself, shaking his head at himself, and paced around his bedroom. He would not think about it, would not even entertain the thought of going. He wouldn’t even imagine what an adventure would entail.

_"Mountains and forests older than the Shire; new people to meet, with their stories and songs; entire cultures to be learned about."_

He frowned at the thought of Rowan. She was going with the dwarves; he could feel it in his heart. She could deny it, she could say she wasn’t sure, but he knew. He could see it in her eyes, the way she spoke, her eagerness to convince him to come with. Rowan wanted to leave Bag End, and the Shire was probably going to lose its Little Elf. Just as well, he supposed, her stay here was never meant to be a permanent one. No matter his daydreams.

But the smial would be feel remarkably quiet and empty again. Bilbo would have to get used to eating alone again, would have to reaccustom himself to sitting in the garden by himself, and would have to remember that there was no one to tell stories to. Yes, it would be very quiet indeed…

But right now…

He perked up, hearing the most unexpected sound. Right now, it wasn’t quiet. No, right now, Bag End was for the second time that night filled with song. It was… it was beautiful, he realized, hearing the dwarves deep in song.

_"We must away ‘ere break of day_

_To find our long forgotten gold"_

The song was significantly muffled by the walls of the home, presumably why he didn’t hear them sooner. Suddenly curious, Bilbo crept to his door and gently nudged it open. Dwarven voiced filled more of his room.

_"The pines were roaring upon the heights_

_The winds were moaning in the night"_

A particularly deep, rumbling voice led the song, and he mulled over which dwarf it could be. It was a powerful voice, so rich and warm, and Bilbo knew any hobbit would die to have such a singing voice. Perhaps it was Dwalin, the large dwarf certainly had the barrel chest that would create that low rumble. Or maybe one of the young ones –oh what was his name?- oh, _Kíli_! Despite his anxiety over dinner, Bilbo had noticed the young man’s surprisingly deep singing voice. Even if his timbre did tend to go higher when he was excited, as evident when talking about Gandalf and dragons.

Or maybe –Bilbo’s throat felt a little dry here- maybe it was Thorin. The leader, mister grumpy and condescending himself, that sang so beautifully. Bilbo very specifically remembered shivering a couple times when the dwarf king spoke lowly, especially the few Khuzdul words he spoke. (Even he had felt his blood pumping, right alongside the dwarves, as the exiled King exclaimed ‘Du bekâr! Du bekâr!’)

_"The fire was red, the flaming spread_

_The trees like torches blazed with light"_

With these thoughts in mind, as the song came to a close, Bilbo very much could imagine Thorin as the one singing. Probably standing in front of the fireplace and a pipe in his hand. He had half a mind to peek out into the sitting room just to see if he was correct, but managed to stop himself in time. What good would it be to see if the grumpy dwarf possessed a lovely singing voice? So instead, Bilbo quietly shut his door until it was ajar by only an inch. Then he returned to his bed and sat upon it, left to his thoughts once more.

It was a mad quest the dwarves were embarking on, lunatic even. Not only did they face a _very_ long trip –he did not know exactly where the Lonely Mountain was, but it must be very far indeed, if it was over the Misty Mountains (which was as far as Bilbo’s maps went)- but at the end they intended to deal with a dragon. A dragon! Live, fire breathing, dwarf munching dragon that would most likely burn them all to a crisp the moment they entered the mountain. And that was _if_ they even found a way inside. (Honestly, who uses a map that can’t even be read?)

He was just deciding to officially retire for the night when there came a knock on his door. Thinking it to be Rowan, for that girl owed him a great many more explanations, Bilbo didn’t think twice about opening it. He had a plethora of unanswered question, and it was about time she be entirely truthful with him. No more of this silvertongue business.

But it was not Rowan standing at his bedroom door. Well, it _was_ and was not at the same time. She wasn’t exactly awake, nor standing. It was indeed an awkward sight, to see Thorin Oakenshield hold a sleeping Rowan like some overgrown child.

Bilbo blinked, not entirely sure if his eyes deceived him or not. Nope, still there. Still a dwarf king at his door, cradling a sleeping girl in his arms, while she slept peacefully with her chin tucked into her shoulder. Thorin motioned at her with a nod of his head," She fell asleep."

"I can see that," came Bilbo’s reply before he could really censor his mouth. Dear girl probably conked out during the singing; he could recall a number of times she’s hummed herself to sleep right in the parlor. He’d chuckle to himself, then wake her up to tell her go on off to bed if she was going to sleep. At the moment though, she was sleeping and a grumpy dwarf was holding her. "I don’t know where her room is," said dwarf explained, looking a tad bit –dare he even think it?- sheepish. Ah, so that explained why he was knocking upon Bilbo’s door.

Bilbo half-wondered how the dwarf even knew where _his_ room was, but soon realized Thorin must’ve seen the light under the door. Then he huffed at the dwarf who, instead of simply waking her, brought her to him like one would an errant child. "You only needed to wake her up, and she’ll toddle on to bed by herself," he explained.

The look Thorin gave him told Bilbo the thought had not even occurred to the dwarves. This made Bilbo stifle a chortle; were dwarves often in the business of carting sleeping damsels off to bed? "Honestly," he smiled amusedly, and stepped forward to shake Rowan’s arm so as to wake her. But Thorin quickly took a step back once he realized Bilbo’s intentions, keeping Rowan well out of his reach.

"I’ve already got her here," he said gruffly," Just point me to her room and I’ll leave her there."

Bilbo was taken aback. He was seriously intending to put her to bed? This was so… unlike the rude dwarf that Bilbo met earlier this night; it truly confused him. Had Gandalf perhaps hit the king over the head with that staff of his? Or more likely, did Rowan steal the staff and proceed to hit Thorin with it herself? Either way, a strange turn of events it was.

Well if Thorin was determined.

….

"Here, I’ll show you," the halfling huffed, with a damnedable smile on his face, and skirted around Thorin into the hallway. Thorin trailed after him, mindful not to bump the girl’s head upon any wall braces. Eventually the hobbit led him to a door down the hall, and pushed the painted door open.

At first glance, it looked a mere guest room, but there were a few subtleties that belied its occupant. The first thing was the Man-sized bed, obviously newly made and a touch out of place in a hobbit’s hole. This was where Thorin laid the girl, carefully so as to not wake her. As he stepped back, and Bilbo went to cover her with a blanket, Thorin glanced around the room.

A small closet, with its door wide open to show the meager collection of a couple outfits. A hideous red and gold umbrella leaning against the mirror. On one of the bed posts hung a strange black shirt, made of thin material, buttoned up the middle, and a stiff collar. Yet what caught his attention was the rips and tears and stains. Looking at it closer, he discovered them to be blood stains.

"It’s what she was wearing when she came here," the hobbit – _Bilbo_ , he reminded himself- spoke up quietly, and Thorin drew back as if burned. He hadn’t meant to be caught snooping, especially not a shirt. But the halfling continued to talk," She was such a mess, covered in blood, and she was just so… lost. How could I have turned her away?"

Bilbo sighed and motioned for Thorin that it was time they left Rowan to her sleep. He followed the hobbit out into the hall, where Bilbo gently shut the door but did not latch it. He muttered as he did so," I really thought someone would come back for her. She speaks of her crew all the time."

Thorin pursed his lips, then couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer," How long has she been here?"

"A little over a month."

So long? And no one ever did come looking for her? It corresponded with the tale she told them, that no one _could_ come for her. Despite her earlier lies to the hobbit, Bilbo didn’t seem all that insulted by it. "Sorry I yelled at you, by the way," Bilbo suddenly spoke up and when Thorin looked down at him, there was a slight blush on his face. Thorin found it quite intriguing.

"I just, ah… well, you know- thought you were…well…"

Thorin huffed; yes, he knew what the halfling thought. "You thought we were the ones to leave her behind." Bilbo seemed to blush all the more, and Thorin briefly ruminated on how _pink_ the hobbit could get.

"Yes, that," Bilbo frowned," I thought you were her company and I got a little carried away. So again, sorry about that."

"Sorry you yelled at me?" the other man suddenly asked," Or sorry I wasn’t who you thought I was?" Bilbo paused at the questions, apparently unsure as to the answer, and Thorin smirked at having offset the little creature. As Bilbo thought over the question, Thorin made to walk away. But then, in a quiet voice, the halfling asked," Are you taking her with you? To Erebor, I mean?"

Thorin gave pause to his steps, then turned his head to regard Master Baggins. The smaller man was wringing his hands, a deep frown marring his smooth face, and looking very much… well, like Dís had when Fíli and Kíli had asked to come on the quest. Thorin turned around fully, surprised at the similarities he saw. ‘Only a month,’ hadn’t he said? Only a month Bilbo had housed the girl, so why did he look so… worried?

Had Rowan not told him about her request to join them on their quest to Erebor? Thorin questioned why she did not, and then felt annoyance that it would obviously fall to him to tell the hobbit. "She has made her request to join the company known," he bit out. There, done.

Then the hobbit scowled –actually scowled at him! "But are you taking her with you?" he repeated, this time a little bit firmer.

Why, the impertinent-

"Are you taking Rowan away from Bag End?"

And just like that, all ire melted away from Thorin, once again reminded of Dís by this little hobbit. Bilbo was looking for… for some kind of assurance. An entire answer; would or would not Rowan be gone come tomorrow? "Yes," Thorin found himself saying, for the first time that night affirming that he accepting the human’s request.

Bilbo almost appeared to deflate in front of him, his shoulders slumped and a deep sigh escaping him. "It appears then…" he hummed," that it doesn’t matter if you were her missing company or not. It’s all the same. Once you’re gone, so will she."

Before Thorin could ask what he meant, Bilbo entered his own room and shut the door behind him.

….

　

　

 


	11. Good

"Out with it," Fíli all but pounced on his brother once they were alone and everyone else asleep," What do you know?" Kíli merely grinned impishly, making a show of fluffing one of Master Baggins’ chair cushions for a pillow. "Kíli…" Fíli warned, getting impatient with his teasing younger brother.

"I know a lot of things," Kíli replied," I know that she’s not really from the Shire, but has been here for about a month or so. I know that she spoke with Uncle, Mister Gandalf, and Master Boggins in the study. I know the study doors are really thin and don’t block sound…"

"Kíli, have you been _eavesdropping_?" Fíli whispered. Kíli’s grin only grew, and as the eldest brother, Fíli was having none of it. "Spill," he demanded," What did you hear?"

Kíli rolled over onto his stomach, angling his body so that the two brothers’ heads were right next to each other. The better to pass words without risking others hearing. "She’s a guardswoman, but she calls it ‘armored transport’. She and her company transport money, gold, and the like from city to city. Apparently, she was alone –or I think so- when she was ambushed." Fíli’s brow rose in surprise, but then again it wasn’t that far of a stretch to believe that happened. If she really did move money and gold, she was probably often a target for such attacks.

Still, such a dainty human fending off an ambush?

"Next thing she knows, she’s in the Shire," Kíli finished, and Fíli’s eyebrow climbs higher. "That’s it?"

Kíli nodded," That’s it, and she has no idea how. That’s why she needs Gandalf."

"To help her get home," Fíli finished, nodding. It made sense, if she was lost and looking for a way home. He could understand her motivations, and why she chose a wizard to ask for help. If anyone could get her back home, it would be him. But then a thought occurred to him," Wait, then why ask to come to Erebor? Why not just point her in the right direction and send her on her way?"

"Because they _can’t_ ," Kíli was practically shaking in his excitement, his eyes bright and gleaming," No one can figure out where she’s from or how to get there."

"Not even Gandalf?"

"Not even Gandalf," he shook his head," That’s when he suggested bringing her with us to Erebor."

"And what did Uncle say to that?" Fíli asked, but Kíli was already shrugging his shoulders. "Dunno, he hasn’t really said anything yet." So there was still a chance she might actually come with, Fíli thought. Then he laid back on his side, wondering how that would change the company. To have not only a female, but one of Man, travel with them. And what if Master Baggins changed his mind and decided to come with as well? A hobbit and a woman in a company of dwarves. He almost laughed at the thought.

This was definitely going to be an interesting quest if that were the case.

…….

Tired or not, exhausted or not, Rowan was a light sleeper. She wasn’t always; there was a time when she was young and carefree, when she could’ve probably have slept through a tornado. (Luckily her siblings were adept at waking her when a tornado siren actually went off, so this theory was never fully tested.) But then she became a young mother and her brain rewired itself appropriately, so that she would always hear the baby’s fine wail even in the dead of sleep. Eventually, Rowan became so adjusted to half-listening in her sleep (listening for a child’s cry; a crash of something knocked over; a light thud of a toddler rolling off her bed) that she never _fully_ slept.

Now, she could be roused by the slightest sound that seemed out of place. So when there came the sound of a door down the hall being opened –the hinges weren’t as well-oiled as Bilbo would’ve liked-then shut, her eyes shot open immediately. As expected, her first thought was that Carlin had woken and let herself out of her room in search of snacks. But then she remembered that she was in Bag End, and it was not Carlin making noise.

A dwarf actually, judging by the soft tread of footsteps, for Bilbo was completely silent when he walked. Rowan glanced out her window –when had she gone to her room?- and deemed it too dark out to be justified as morning. So what on earth was one of the dwarrows doing up and about?

Her need to know was what drove her out of bed, and she thought it funny she went to bed in her boots. Toeing them off as well as chucking her clunky and uncomfortable belt, she ran a quick hand through her curls. Wild as usual, but there was nothing for it, so she crept out of her own room and followed the hallway. Her socked feet made no stepping sounds, but her weight alone caused the floorboards to creak. Rowan flinched and paused in her steps, but when no one jumped out at her she deemed the creaks quiet enough for her to continue on.

There was a light on in the kitchen, and someone shuffling about. She poked her head around the corner and smiled in amusement at what she saw.

Bombur set a plate and empty cup on the kitchen table and turned to open a cupboard, only to find more crockery. A small frown –almost a pout, really- adorned his face, and he sadly shut the cupboard door. Opening another proved to be just as useful.

Rowan admittedly was not as familiar with Bombur as she was the other dwarrows, only remembering bits and pieces about him. His love of food –eating or cooking- was a major one, as well as his brother was Bofur, and their cousin, Bifur. Oh, and Bombur had a tendency to take his sleeptime wherever convenient, even if it was in a barrel floating down a river. He was also quiet in nature, she soon realized, as she had yet to hear the round dwarf to even speak one word.

Rather that silently watch him in his endeavor like some rude person, Rowan stepped fully into the kitchen. "Bombur?" she called out. A cupboard door was slammed shut in his surprise, and Bombur straightened up to see who had snuck up on him, his eyes wide. She felt bad at the alarmed look on his face.

"Couldn’t sleep?" she asked.

He didn’t answer, not that she quite expected him to do so. He had such a guilty expression, like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. Whether he felt bad for raiding his host’s pantry a second time that night, or he truly wasn’t supposed to be eating this late, Rowan didn’t know. Still, she could remember a time when sleepless souls wandered out of bed and went to the kitchen, as if completely natural. It was only with experience that she learned that it was in the hope that food would settle nerves and lull them back into sleep. While Bombur was nothing like Carlin, it was obvious he shared that ideal with Rowan’s daughter.

She smiled reassuringly at him, trying to communicate to him that she wasn’t upset in the slightest. "I’d say it’s a perfect time for a midnight snack, wouldn’t you?" she said and stepped further into the kitchen. While he didn’t speak, she opened a cupboard and pulled out a second pair of plate and cup to set next to his. Then turning around, the teapot and some water soon found itself hung over the kitchen hearth that was almost always burning.

Rowan chattered as she worked, if mostly to fill the silence (though she did so miss having someone older than three that can actually understand what she was saying, as she worked in the kitchen). "A cup of tea will be nice too," she said, smiling for this felt familiar to her," There are some herbs on the windowsill. You pick out what kind you’d like and I’ll go get us some food. Bilbo never keeps it in the kitchen; not enough room he says."

"Another pantry actually," she grinned when Bombur looked surprised and intrigued at the thought of another pantry. Promising her return, Rowan left him to the tea herbs and headed for the second pantry further in the smial. Not nearly as stocked as the main pantry, this was where Bilbo stored his extra, the food that simply wouldn’t fit. Extra loaves of bread he’d baked, one of which she grabbed right away, baskets of vegetables, and cured meat. Of which she grabbed the lettuce, a block of cheese, and a slab of smoked ham. When she had what she needed, Rowan then trotted herself back to the kitchen.

Bombur was still there, to her relief, stoking the small fire in the hearth. He looked up when she returned but didn’t say anything. As she set about gathering a chopping board and 2 knives, he waddled over to see if he could help. Rowan promptly handed him the bread and a knife," Slice this, please. Thick enough for sandwiches." As he set to do just that, she grabbed the ham and started slicing that as well.

"I used to do this all the time," she spoke as they worked," for Carlin, almost every night in fact." When Bombur didn’t ask who Carlin was, she was eternally grateful. So going on, she huffed and shook her head, amused by the old memory. "You know how long it took me to convince her that cake was _not_ a suitable midnight snack?"

He didn’t laugh, but when Rowan chanced a peek at him, there was a small smile on her face. She decided to count it as a victory.

Just then, someone growled something at the doorway. Both she and Bombur looked up and saw Bifur standing there. It hadn’t been a growl, Rowan realized, but had been Bifur speaking Khuzdul. Really, the language was so harsh that sometimes it was tough for her to differentiate. Still though, she motioned with her knife-free hand for him to join them. "We’re just making sandwiches, Bifur. You want one too?"

For a long moment, she thought the dwarf would decline and leave, having only come to check up on his cousin. But then he stepped into the kitchen and said something else in Khuzdul. Not knowing in the least what was said, Rowan assumed he said yes and held the knife out for him, handle first. "Great, you take over cutting the ham," she told him and after only a moment, he accepted and moved into the spot she soon vacated.

Rowan busied herself with checking the teapot, but found it wasn’t boiling yet. She did notice however that Bombur had pulled aside the dried lemon balm. It was one of her favorites, and she smiled happily at it. While they waited for the water to boil, she moved on to slicing the cheese for the sandwiches. Together the three of them worked in companionable silence, the only sounds in the room of their knives. Eventually Bombur was the first to finish, and soon found the tub of butter which he then spread onto the bread slices.

As the two finished making the sandwiches, Rowan poured and steeped the tea into three cups. Bifur sniffed at his steaming cup, but drank it with the rest of them.

It was… _peaceful_ was the first word that came to mind. A peaceful silence, in which they ate their food and drank their tea, and all thought about the upcoming quest. At least that’s what she assumed, since that was all that was on her mind. But for all she knew, Bifur could be thinking about flowers and Bombur could be contemplating the square footage of Bag End. Still, it was nice.

There were still five sandwiches left over, which she noticed went onto a plate and carried by Bombur. She bid him goodnight and set about washing their teacups and plates. It was only after she set them aside to dry that she noticed Bifur remaining in the kitchen.

"Aren’t you going back to bed too?" she asked, when he just stood there with his usual unreadable expression. When he answered in Khuzdul, Rowan didn’t know what she was expecting. "Sorry," she apologized, but it was fortunate he took no offense to it. Instead he switched to Iglishmek, which still looked very familiar to her. It was vastly different from ASL, leaning closer to the BSL she’d learned parts of, but in general she’d only ever learned bits and pieces of sign language, and all for curiosity’s sake only. Bifur also had a tendency to ‘speak’ too fast, but she caught a couple of words. Namely ‘you’ and ‘good’. "I did… good?" she repeated.

Bifur nodded curtly and repeated the sign, bringing his right fingertips from his mouth into his waiting left palm. "Gamut."

"Gamut?" she echoed.

He nodded again," Gamut." Then patted her on the head and followed after his cousin. Leaving Rowan in the kitchen with a confused look on her face.

"Gamut…" she half whispered, the foreign word feeling strange on her tongue. Then she smiled; she’d just learned her first Khuzdul word.

　

　

 


	12. Company

The first light of day was barely peeking over the horizon when Thorin was nudging both brothers awake. Groaning about the early hour, Kíli pushed the offending boot away and burrowed back into his coat. It only earned him a harder nudge. "Wake up, you louts," Thorin ordered, a small smile gracing his face when once again Kíli tried squirming away," We’ve got to get the ponies by midday." On Kíli’s other side, Fíli groaned and reluctantly sat up, knowing the ponies were at the Green Dragon Inn in Bywater.

"Get up," Thorin said one last time before leaving them to it. As his footsteps faded away, Kíli sighed and eventually rose from the floor. All around them, he could see everyone else packing their bedrolls and preparing for a long day. "What about Mister Boggins?" he asked his brother.

Fíli shook his head and set about to rolling up his bedroll. "Well…" Kíli pouted," There goes our burglar hobbit…" Then a though occurred to him," Think Rowan will be any good as a burglar?"

Fíli merely shrugged in reply.

"Where is she anyways?"

Another shrug was his answer.

"Fat lot of good, you are then."

This time, Fíli reached over and tipped his brother over back onto the floor.

…..

Rowan told herself not to cry when Bell crushed her into a hobbit-sized bear hug. She repeated this to herself again when the little ones wrapped around her legs and begged her to stay. There were no tears in her eyes. No, sir, no tears here. Not- not a one, she swears.

Bell Gamgee smiled as the usually composed girl quickly wiped at her eyes, her lips downturned into a frown and obviously trying not to cry. "I hope you find what you’re looking for," she told her, only for Rowan to rub harder at her eyes.

"Here," Bell pushed a basket –the biggest one she had- into her arms," Some treats for the road. You’ll get hungry with all that travelin’." Rowan bit her lip, sniffled, and said," Thank you."

"And don’t skip any meals, you’re skin and bones enough as it is."

"Promise," Rowan sniffed," Three square meals a day."

"Eight," Bell demanded, and both women burst into giggles. Bell smiled and took a step back after giving the younger lass another hug. She turned a critical on their Little Elf who was now prepared for a long journey. To think, Rowan came to the Shire with nothing but the clothes on her back. Now here she was, a month later, leaving with all their well wishes and blessings.

She must’ve borrowed a small pack from Bilbo, for it was slung over her shoulders. In it, Bell hoped she remembered to pack the few outfits they had bought for her; she would need them. Hamfast’s cloak was draped over one shoulder as the day was too warm to fully wear it, even if it was a bit too small for her. Her clunky boots would protect those tiny little feet, and that basket of food would stave off any hunger in the coming days.

"Oh," Rowan perked up, having remembered something," and if Bilbo happens to come running after us, could you please look after Bag End until he comes back? I don’t want Lobelia to get her hands on it; it may be a long time, though." Bell promised she would do as such, but then wondered. "And you? Will you be coming back with ‘im?" she asked.

Oh, and there came the crying again… "I- I don’t know," Rowan admitted, swiping at the corner of her eye," I don’t know if I shall ever find my way back home."

"Oh, child," Bell pulled the taller woman back into yet another hug –never too many hugs, she always says- and said," You’re a strong lass, smart and kind. You will find your home."

"And if you ever need be, the Shire can be home too."

Rowan smiled weakly at that," A home away from home."

With a serious face, Bell promised to her," Good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home." She nodded in satisfaction when the lass smiled and swore she would remember.

"Rowan!" someone shouted just then, and both women turned to see one of the dwarves coming their way. He was young, with hardly a beard, but still looking every bit a dwarf in Bell’s opinion. "We’re ready to head out!" he called, waving an arm as he walked up the path. Other hobbits nearby glanced up at his boisterous yelling, most frowning, but the young dwarf paid them no attention.

"Be right there, Kíli," Rowan called back to him. Then she knelt down to give each of the Gamgee children a kiss goodbye. "Be good for your mama," she warned them," or Ents will come and hang you by your toes." They giggled and nodded eagerly.

Wiping her cheeks one last time, she stood and turned to the waiting dwarf. Kíli easily took the basket she held out for him to carry but couldn’t be stopped from peeking inside with a boyish grin. His head shot up, grinning widely, and Rowan nodded her head towards Bell, letting him know who the gift was from. "Thank you!" he exclaimed, much to the hobbit woman’s joy. At least the boy knew his manners.

Bell watched the two head back down the path with a smile on her face. Her heart felt a little bit lighter, knowing that Rowan would be in good hands. And should Bilbo go along as well –Rowan certainly seemed to think so- then she would be even better taken care of. Then a thought occurred to her, and with a grin she shouted out," Master Dwarf!"

Kíli paused and turned around, curiosity written all over his face. "Make sure to take care of our Little Elf, you hear me?!" Bell called out, in the most unhobbitlike manner.

But completely worth it for the dwarf’s baffled expression and Rowan’s ringing laughter.

……

Walking to the Green Dragon was no hardship, except for the one time Thorin tried to take them the wrong way. When Rowan noticed them head down the road leading to Tuckborough, she discreetly cleared her throat. No one seemed to hear her, so she loudly asked," I thought we were going to the Green Dragon?"

"We are," Thorin nodded, continuing on as if nothing was wrong. It took a lot of willpower for Rowan _not_ to laugh, and instead stopped in the middle of the path. Nori bumped into her from behind, as did Dori and Bofur, causing a small scene in which the dwarves grumbled loudly. Even Thorin paused and turned around to see what the ruckus was about.

Rowan was too highly amused to be bothered much, instead resting her hand thoughtfully on her chin. She was barely managing to restrain her grin down to a smirk. Finally, she cocked her thumb over her shoulder, pointing at the Inn across the lake and thus the path to it they passed about fifty yards back. "You mean _that_ Green Dragon Inn?"

…..

Whatever reputation Rowan had made for herself in the Shire disappeared the instant she entered the Green Dragon with thirteen dwarves. It was… both amusing and humbling, the rate of which all conversation came to a halt when they entered the Bywater inn. Hobbits she had gotten to know this past month now paused and stared at her as they passed, either with contempt, curiosity, or scorn. Only a few ignored them, those already deep in their cups and couldn’t be bothered by a company of dwarves.

In her sudden bout of disquiet, Rowan gave a small huff of forced chuckle. It really _was_ a little bit amusing how quickly they managed to silence an entire inn. If only she didn’t feel so… judged. At her side, Gandalf obviously didn’t give it much thought and carried on like it always was this quiet in the Green Dragon (it really wasn’t). However, she completely missed the slightly concerned gaze he threw her way.

She really didn’t know what she was expecting. Maybe she was hoping to say goodbye to the few hobbits she got along with and willing to call ‘friend’. However, she spotted neither Drogo Baggins, Adalgrim Took, or even Amaranth Brandybuck amidst the small crowd. Only a few faces she recognized, and many more than she did not know. But whatever she expected from the hobbits, it was not to be faced with such judging stares and she tried hard to ignore it all as Balin negotiated the sixteen ponies for the company.

She could not get out of there fast enough once they had their ponies.

But her luck, as it always has, ran out the moment before she exited the inn. Just as Rowan was about to duck out, right on Gandalf’s heels, someone spoke up," Such disreputable company you keep, Mistress Elf. What business do you have running off with a gaggle of _dwarves_? What a scandal, it is!"

She should’ve ignored it, should’ve kept on walking and headed straight for the stables, pretending she never heard him speak. But she did none of these things, and Rowan came to a halt just in the Green Dragon’s doorway. Unfortunately, she recognized that voice –having been annoyed with it upon one afternoon when she couldn’t get away with a well-placed excuse- and she _really_ didn’t want to have to bother with him today. _‘It had to be him who spoke up?’_ Rowan lamented, turning to face her accuser with a put upon sigh, _’ Couldn’t it have been someone else? **Anyone** else?’_

Rowan turned around to face the judgmental stare and crossed arms of Bruno Bracegirdle, elder brother of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. (There were also some astounded looks from the few dwarves who heard his comment.) Bruno was unlike his sister in the way that he didn’t screech or nag, nor did he cherish wealth and vanity the way she did. He did, however, share her love of all things ‘proper and respectable’, and so looked down upon anyone he deemed contemptible. And he had no problem with voicing his distastes.

Rowan was about to correct him, to scold him and say that the dwarves were far from ‘disreputable, but then one of said dwarves beat her to it. "‘Mistress Elf’?" Dori echoed, his expression of confusion matching that of his younger brothers’," Did you just call Miss Rowan… an _elf_?" His bewilderment was plain to see, though Rowan wondered why he focused more on her title and not the insult just paid to him and his kin.

Before Bruno could open his mouth and most likely insult the dwarves even more, Rowan quickly stepped in. "If anyone here is unrespectable, Bruno Bracegirdle," she chided, using his full the name in the same slighting tone that she did with his sister’s," it’s _you_." There were a few gasps, for it was a rare occasion in which someone called the Bracegirdle siblings out on it. But hey, this was her last day in the Shire, might as well make the most of it. "Honestly, insulting people you’ve never even met, for the sole fact that they’re not hobbits like you?" she went for the most condescending tone she knew," Most improper of you. In fact, you could even be called inhospitable." It was probably one of the more risqué taunts to give a hobbit, to call one improper, unrespectable, or inhospitable. A lesson drilled into her head by Bilbo on many occasions, whenever she happened to question what constituted as ‘proper’.

And oh, Bruno was turning a marvelous shade of pink, either from embarrassment or anger. Who could tell? Now to finish with a dramatic exit, Rowan told herself and proceeded to toss her loose hair over her shoulder," This is an exceptionally respectable dwarven company, I’ll have you know. Dori here alone, is the most well-mannered dwarf this side of the Misty Mountains." Dori blushed bright red at the praise. "So please keep that in mind, next time you feel the need to open your mouth. I bid you good day, Mister Bracegirdle," she nodded curtly at the stunned hobbit, then paused as a thought came to her," Oh, and please give your sister my regards. And tell her, that if I find out she’s set even _one foot_ in Bag End in our absence, I shall be _very upset_ and she will not like the consequences." Let her stew in that for a good year, wondering just what Rowan Sauvageau was capable of when sufficiently irked. Then she about-faced and marched right out of the Green Dragon.

……

(Nori was cackling about it for a good ten minutes outside in the stables. Though Rowan was unsure if he was more amused by her short exchange with Bruno, or his older brother’s still astounded face. Apparently, her calling him the most well-mannered dwarf east of the Misty Mountains was a huge compliment to him, one that he couldn’t quite comprehend. Ori briefly explained to her that Dori was unused to praise like it, as their kin were more…umm, rugged is how he put it.)

Not five minutes later, Rowan found herself facing one of the little ponies with no small amount of distaste. "What, never ridden before?" Bofur was the one to ask, having been the one to help secure the saddle and packs onto this particular pony.

She shook her head," No, I’ve ridden plenty. It’s just…" The little pony gave a shake of its own, and Rowan instinctively reached out to soothe it, her fingers running down its shaggy mane. But… she was just as tall as the poor thing! "It’s tiny," she finally said," Can it even carry me and all this stuff?"

"What do ye mean, ‘tiny’?" Bofur asked, confused," He’s a full-grown pony."

"I’ve never ridden anything smaller than a horse," she retorted, which caught the dwarf by surprise. "Wha, like a real horse?"

Rowan scowled at him. "Yes, a real horse," she echoed," You know, five-six hands off the ground, tall, full sized, galloping horse." She suddenly wondered if this creature could even manage anything faster than a canter.

Bofur whistled lowly. "Galloping even. But…"

"What?"

"Well, aren’t _you_ a bit too small for a big horse?"

"I am _not_ that small!"

　

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. It's my headcanon that -like most youngsters- Fili and Kili are not morning people. Sure, they have tons of energy. But getting them to wake up? Almost nigh impossible  
> 2\. Not much is written or spoken about Bruno Bracegirdle, only that he's Lobelia's brother. Given her personality, I expect him to be slightly similar, if not as identical.


	13. And

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the short delay on this chapter. When I noticed the continuity error, I had to fix it. Hopefully, all of you will like this reduxed version as much as the original.

It was the birdsong that woke him up, as it had been for most of his life. There was always birdsong in the Shire as soon as the sun came up. Most times, Bilbo woke up to it, but he had slept so fitfully last night that it took him a good while. And when he did so, Bag End was... quiet. Quiet enough to hear the birds outside.

Bilbo slowly rose from bed, wondering if last night had been a dream. Surely there hadn't been thirteen dwarves in his home last night, asking him to go on an adventure. The silence was almost deafening when he stepped out of his bedroom. "Hello?" he called out, if only to break the quiet.

No answer came, not even from Rowan, and that's how he knew it wasn't all a dream. Thorin Oakenshield's company really had been here, they really were going on that quest of theirs, and they were really gone. He should've been relieved; Bilbo should've been grateful for the peace and quiet after yesterdays hullabaloo. He'd asked the dwarves to leave, and to leave him out of it, and that's just what they did.

So why was the quiet so disconcerting?

Walking around the smial provided no comfort, even when he saw all his furniture put back where it belonged. Everything was put back to the way it was before. Well, almost everything.

Passing by the parlour, Bilbo spotted the Deed of Contract (the one with travel expenses, funeral arrangements, and _incineration_ ) laid out on one of the tables by his chair. It sat so innocently, as if it didn't promise death and certain doom. _'And adventure,'_ a part of his subconcious whispered. And quite frankly, he wasn't all that inclined to push the thought away.

The world. He'd get to actually see it, all of it. With a speculative eye, Bilbo leaned over to look better at the contract. At the bottom were two signatures, with room for one more...

.........

"Oh, ohhhh, what do I bring?!" he clamored to himself, rushing about the smial to gather what he would need. What _does_ one bring on an adventure? Clothes: he's got that. Food: not really anything left in his panty to pack. (Though maybe it was for the best; then no food would spoil and go rotten while he was away). Maybe a coat? Even though it was the height of spring and the days would only get warmer, just in case, Bilbo threw on one of his old velvet topcoats. It wasn't a winter coat by any means, but he didn't have the time to go digging through storage for his winter garb. This would have to do.

Bilbo glanced up at the clock and had a fright. Goodness, was that the time?! He'd never make it to the Green Dragon by eleven! Rushing, he threw his pack over his shoulders and grabbed the Contract from the table. He paused only long enough to lock the front door, then he turned right around and very well _booked_ it out his front yard.

He was going on an adventure and he was late!

.........

Bofur somehow managed to talk Rowan up onto the pony. How he managed to do so, not even she was sure. But here she sat, on a little pony that felt completely too small for her. "There, not so bad, is it?" he laughed.

Rowan's mouth twisted into an unsure frown," I feel too close to the ground." He just laughed and made his way to his own mount. With a sigh, Rowan subjected to the inevitable and urged the pony into a walk. Slowly, they ambled after the line of dwarf-bearing ponies trialing out of Hobbiton (Luckily, this time Gandalf was the one to do the leading.) It was a slow, stunted walk and the pony seemed to... bounce an unnecessary amount.

Oh what she wouldn't give for a real horse. A thoroughbred, a mustang, a friesan, a mix, she didn't care. Just something bigger than a blasted pony. She wanted to gallop; she wanted to race through the roads of the Shire and feel the wind buffeting at her face. She wanted to feel as if she could fly.

Before long, Rowan noticed that she had two companions riding on either side of her. "So..." Fíli hummed. "Little Elf?" Kíli finished.

She chuckled. "No one in the Shire’s ever seen an elf before, so they all thought I was one." Ahead of them, Gloin scoffed loudly. Whether it was at the ludicrosity of her being an elf, or just talk of elves in general, no one was quite sure.

Ori turned around in his saddle," Why? _Are_ you part elf?" Gloin scoffed louder.

"No, I’m not," she assured all of them," It’s just very difficult to convince the hobbits otherwise. It’s obvious I’m no dwarf or a hobbit, and apparently I’m too ‘ _dainty’_ ," she rolled her eyes," to be human. And since I seem to share some elf-like traits, they all just assumed I was one. Albeit, a very small elf."

"Hah," Fíli laughed a bit at that," Can’t say I’ve ever met little elf before." Rowan unhooked her left boot momentarily to kick his leg. "Not an elf," she repeated as she replaced her foot back into the stirrup," I’m human, thank you very much."

"Then why are ya so tiny for a human?!" they could hear Nori shout out, laughing from somewhere behind them.

Rowan shouted back," Why are you so annoying for a dwarf?!" and wished she had a rock to throw at his big head and even bigger hair. He only laughed more and a few others joined in.

With a huff, she turned her nose back to the front. "There is nothing wrong with my size. Many people in my family are short." Her mother’s entire side was ridiculously tiny, though every now and then one relative or another would have a good growth spurt. Her father’s side, though, was notorious were being tall, so it all balanced out nicely for her and her siblings. Rowan just happened to be shortest of them all.

"I kinda prefer you small," Fíli was saying," Makes you more our size. Slap a beard on you and you’d almost be a dwarrowdam." Then he and Kíli laughed at her utterly baffled expression.

But, as always, she was quick on the uptake," If you’re going to slap a beard on anyone, do so on Kíli." Fíli threw his head back and laughed long and hard. (Kíli pouted and ignored the both of them for the next five minutes.)

………

Gone. They were gone already. Bilbo despaired upon stumbling into the Green Dragon only to find it devoid of any dwarves. Though they _had_ been there and apparently Rowan gave someone (he later learned it was Bruno Bracegirdle) quite a talking to.

But Bilbo Baggins was in a hurry and did not have time to listen to the full tale. "Which way?" he asked breathlessly," Which way did they go?" A few pointed him in the direction of Bree, and he set about rucking his pack further up on his shoulders.

Then someone asked," You gonna go get Miss Rowan? I reckon she’d listen to you, Mister Bilbo, and come to her senses. Put away all this nonsense of running off with dwarves."

"No, Mister Chubb," Bilbo grinned at him," I’m going _with_ them!" He was laughing as he ran out the door and on the road towards Bree; it was so worth the looks on their faces.

…….

Kíli leaned back in his saddle and thoughtfully watched the leaves pass over above them. "I was really hoping Master Boggins would show up," he said, sounded more than a little disappointed. To his left, both Rowan and Fíli glanced at him with curious expressions.

"There’s still time," Fíli responded.

Now it was Kíli’s turn to raise an eyebrow at his brother. "He didn’t meet us at the Green Dragon," he pointed out.

Fíli just shrugged," Maybe he slept in." By Kíli’s doubtful look, he did not share in his optimism. "We’re already halfway out of the Shire," he said," If he was gonna join us, he would’ve by now."

"I wouldn’t count him out just yet," his brother argued, then turned to Rowan who so far had stayed out of the conversation," Right, Rowan? You think Master Boggins will show up." With a smile, the lass chuckled and shook her head at the two’s antics.

But, she did answer," I would bet that Bilbo will turn up sooner or later."

Directly behind them, Oín belted out," What’s that? Who’s making bets?" The three of the twisted in their saddles to face the elder dwarf. "I said," Rowan said, a little louder knowing he was practically deaf," I would bet that Bilbo will turn up sooner or later."

Oín grinned and replied," You’re betting against the twins about the halfling?"

"Hey," Fíli argued," Kíli’s the only one who thinks he won’t show up. I’m betting he _will_."

Further behind Oín, Nori shouted and entered the conversation," Then that’s an easy win for the lad." Kíli grinned at the support while Rowan turned and stuck a tongue out at Nori’s direction.

Oín was quick to disagree," Bah! The lass is right. The hobbit will turn up, just you wait."

"How much you willing to bet on it!" Nori challenged.

"Five silver coin."

"You’re on!"

That bet soon spurned on more bets, the other dwarves getting involved in the debate. Kíli turned back to Rowan and Fíli and grinned," Five silver coin each?" Rowan frowned and tried to think if she even _had_ five silver coins. There hadn’t been much work in the Shire, and people usually paid her in food rather than money for favors she did. But on the other hand… it was quite likely she’d win this bet.

Fíli didn’t even hesitate," Do you think you’ve got enough to pay the both of us, brother?" He smiled wickedly when Kíli was quick to agree to the terms. If Bilbo didn’t show up, they’d each pay him five silver coins (if Rowan could scrounge up that most). And if (‘ _when_ ,’ Rowan thought stubbornly) Bilbo came running, then Kíli would pay the each of them five coins.

…….

Yavanna, how far could they travel in a couple hours?! Bilbo panted heavily as he ran, the grass and pebble passing by quickly under his hobbit feet. It felt like forever since he’d left the Green Dragon, and still he didn’t see the Company. What if his neighbors pointed him in the wrong direction? What if he couldn’t find them in time, and the company left the Shire entirely without him?

No, they’d have to pass through Bree. Of that he was sure. He’d catch up to them there. Even if he somehow beat them there –it was starting to feel like he would, with how fast he ran- then he’d wait for them. But… Bree was such a big town, with multiple inns. And he was just a small hobbit; how would he find just thirteen dwarves in a city of Men?

Just then, he heard clanking and –was that? Yes, it was! The sound of hoofsteps! He’d found the Company! "Wait!" he shouted, sprinting over the last knoll and there they were," Wait!" He could see the whole group of them, a line of ponies laden with supplies and people. At the front, rode a much larger horse and atop it, one grey wizard. "Wait!" he shouted one last time, and they all came to a stop.

There was a small cheer as Rowan shouted in glee upon seeing him. Bilbo noticed she rode between the two younger dwarves, Mr. Muddy Boots and Mr. Pointy Weapons. The dark haired one stared at him incredulously," I don’t believe it…"

Ignoring him for the moment, Bilbo ran to the front of the line where Gandalf, Thorin, and Balin were waiting. Gandalf was smiling brightly," Well met, Bilbo." Smiling back at the wizard –or trying to, he was _really_ out of breath- Bilbo nodded back at him.

"I’m uhh," he panted, leaning over slightly to catch his breath, then straightened back up," I’ve decided. I’ll join. I’m coming with."

There was another cheer from Rowan’s direction, though now combined with another’s. Bilbo glanced back in time to see the muddy boot dwarf almost viciously throw two bags of coin at her and the pointy weapon enthusiast. Then," Pay up, Nori!" rang out and even more bags of coin were tossed.

Bilbo stared in bafflement; what was all _that_ about it? And so he did not see Thorin Oakenshield quietly pass a small bag of coin to Dwalin, scowling something fierce as he did so.

"Very good, Bilbo!" Gandalf’s smile was almost dazzling with how wide it stretched across his face," Welcome to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield." Turning away from the confusing actions going on elsewhere in the line, Bilbo smiled back and suddenly remembered the Contract. "Oh, yes, can’t forget about this," he lifted it up, thankful that it remained undamaged in his frantic run.

Balin took it from him, smiling good-naturedly. "It’s just, uhh…" Bilbo interrupted before he could unfold it completely," There were a few things I had some questions on." He had noticed some… interesting clauses in the contract when he read it last night, but had been to focused on the whole _incineration_ part to really bring it up before now.

Balin rose an eyebrow," Eh?" He unfolded it and peered at the bottom," Why, Master Baggins. You’ve yet to sign it."

The answer Bilbo gave him was sarcasm at its finest," Well, that would be because I don’t speak the Dwarvish Tongue and I refuse to sign anything that requires it of me." There was a prolonged silence in which Gandalf tried (unsuccessfully) to hide his grin behind his pipe. Luckily, no one paid much attention to the wizard; they were too focused on Bilbo and his strange declaration.

"What?" Kíli blinked and traded glances with his brother," Dwarvish Tongue? Did he say he was required to speak the Dwarvish Tongue?"

Even Ori expressed his confusion," But Master Baggins isn’t a dwarf." Why on earth would he know how, much less be required, to speak Khuzdul?

Bilbo nodded in agreement," Exactly what I thought." He turned back to Balin and held his hand out for the contract," May I?" Once it was back in his hands, he opened it up and read aloud," _‘Disputes arising between the contract parties shall be heard and judged by an arbitrator of the Company’s choosing, and all pleas shall be pleaded, shrewed, defended, answered, debated, and judged, in the Dwarvish Tongue’_."

"What?!" Thorin boomed, unsure if he was supposed to be glaring at either at Bilbo for bringing it up, or Balin for writing that in the first place. In the end, he settled for giving Balin a very stern look.

Balin coughed and cleared his throat, looking particularly sheepish as he did so. Not a common expression on his face, judging by the wide eyed stares of the younger dwarves. "Yes, well, I was under the assumption that our Burglar was to be a dwarf when I wrote it up," he explained.

"Ye’ll need to change it then, brother," Dwalin drawled. Still a little bit pink in the face, Balin nodded and replied," Aye. I’ll revise it to say the Common Tongue."

"I should think that would be best," Gandalf agreed.

"Also," Bilbo mused, opening the contract further and unfolding a little flap of paper that wouldn’t have been noticeable before now," What’s this about me slaying the dragon all by myself?"

"What?!" this time it was Rowan who screeched. Not even bothering to direct her pony up to the front of the line, she vaulted out of the saddle and stalked up to them. "They expect you to do _what_ , Bilbo?" she demanded.

He shrugged and read," _Present Company is not obliged to assist Burglar in this so called ‘pest-control’ phase of the Adventure’._ " Ignoring for the moment the way Rowan gritted her teeth and stomped her feet, he glanced up at Gandalf (who was frowning quite deeply)," Pest control?"

"Since when," Rowan interrupted, directing a glare at Thorin (who felt no compulsion about glaring back),"are dragons considered mere _pests_ in the natural order of things?" A few curious looks were directed towards both Thorin and Balin, but she was busy demanding," How could you even _think_ to put that in the contract? Would _you_ go up against Smaug by yourself?!"

A few of the other dwarves grumbled their agreement. "Not right, it is," Bofur mumbled, with Dori and Oín nodding in concession. "Why is that even in there?" Kíli grimaced.

But Rowan wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. "What else is there?" she asked Bilbo," Anything at all? Anything that sounds even a little bit odd?"

"Well…" he furrowed his eyebrows," It’s not really-" His eyes flickered up to Thorin, who had steadily throwing dark looks at both him and Rowan, and suddenly felt that it really wasn’t a big deal. It was fine. He was fine, he could manage-

" _Bilbo_ ," Rowan repeated, very pointedly placing herself between him and Thorin," What else?"

"It’s nothing really, it’s just…this part doesn’t quite make sense to me," he sighed and read the part that had been confusing him," _‘Company may modify or change this Agreement from time to time at its sole discretion, with or without notice to Burglar’_?" Now correct him if he was wrong, but isn’t a contract-

Before Bilbo could voice his concerns, Rowan…

Well, Rowan started yelling in a language none of them understood. And oh boy, did she sound _furious_! Everyone stared on, flabbergasted, as she threw a small fit there in the middle of the road. Nori glanced sideways at his brother," What’s she saying?" Dori could only shrug, not having the faintest clue

Bilbo was the one to explain, sighing deeply as he _knew_ Rowan would react this way," It’s Gaelic. Her native tongue." He only knew of it, because Rowan had a tendency to lapse into it when sufficiently riled up. (Usually after an encounter with some hobbits she didn’t like, namely Aunt Linda). He’d been curious the first time it happened, and after asking about it learned that it was her first language. ("It’s a difficult language to speak in; the pronunciations are hard to do if it’s not your first language," she’d explained," So my mum decided she’d teach us Gaelic first so any language we learned afterwards would be easier.")

"Really?" Gandalf hummed in intrigue, still puffing away at his pipe," Never heard of it before…"

"No one has," Bilbo shrugged, and that was saying a lot as Bilbo made it his business to study language and history whenever he had the chance.

"-it’s a fucking contract, you lout!" Oh, it appears Miss Rowan has reverted back to the common tongue so they could now understand her," It’s not _supposed_ to be amended; not without unanimous agreement by _both_ parties. Not just at your damn whimsy! I can’t believe you had the gall to write that in." Displeasures were voiced all around as the others agreed with her. Most were directed at Balin, who had written the contract in the first place. Even with his defense of "But that clause was in regards to the Confidentiality Agreement," they could not be dissuaded.

"Then that needs to be _specified_ in the contract!" Gloin bellowed, who was well versed in the writing of contract and official documents, being an accountant and all.

("Don’t you think they’re getting a little out of control?" Bilbo asked Gandalf, looking up worriedly at the tall man," Maybe you should step in?"

Blowing out smoke from him pipe in the shape of a butterfly, Gandalf hummed merrily," Oh, no need for that. It looks like your personal guard has it well in hand.")

"That’s it," Dwalin rode up and grabbed the paper out of her hands. Shaking it threateningly at his brother, he growled," We are making some serious changes to this, brother."

"Oh no no no no," Rowan crossed her arms," We’re not settling for some paltry revisions." Before anyone could ask, she demanded," If you want a Burglar, then we’re rewriting the whole damn thing."

... … ...

Twenty minutes later found Bilbo sitting in between Rowan and Gandalf. Across, sat Balin, Thorin, and Gloin. In between the two parties laid a blank roll of parchment (thoughtfully provided by Ori) upon which the new Deed of Contract would be written. "Is this really all necessary?" he asked, fidgeting again. He did hate to be such a bother, and Thorin’s glaring was starting to make him uncomfortable.

"Yes," Rowan scowled," It is."

On Bilbo’s other side, Gandalf nodded," Miss Rowan is right. It was an oversight of mine to suggest you sign that contract without fully looking at the contents. Neverless, we have the opportunity to do so now." Thorin grumbled some.

"Now, before we begin," Balin started and lifted up his pen," Are all the representatives decided upon?"

"Aye," Thorin grumbled some more, with Gloin soon echoing him.

"Yes," Rowan answered succinctly.

But then Bofur, the kind soul that he is, pointed out," Shouldn’t Mister Bilbo have at least one dwarf representative? I can’t imagine a hobbit, a woman, and a wizard would know much about dwarvish contracts."

Gandalf positively beamed. "Splendid idea, Bofur! Now, who-"

Fíli sat himself down next to Rowan, facing opposite his uncle. (He would forever remember Thorin’s shocked expression). "I volunteer to be your dwarvish representative," he spoke, entirely sure of himself and without a hint of regret. He sat tall and proudly, looking every bit the prince he was.

The resulting glance he got from Gandalf was incredibly curious, but in the end the wizard nodded. "Very well, as long as Bilbo agrees."

"Oh, umm… y-yes, of course," Bilbo nodded, still very much surprised by Fíli’s sudden offer," By all means."

With the representative finally decided upon, Rowan curled her lips up in a smile worthy of any politician. "Well then, let’s get started…"

… … …

　

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I can't be the only one who got pissed off upon reading the contract. Honestly, some of those clauses... how ever did the dwarrows get away with it?!


	14. All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter I've written so far for this story, but I just couldn't find a good place to stop. But writing in a new style and format was fun. Hope you like sassy-Rowan and business-savvy-Fili.

Conditions of Engagement

**Agreed hereto,** freely and under neither duress nor force nor coercion nor extortion nor threat to life and/or limb, and superceding any prior contract, agreement or undertaking, survivable clauses notwithstanding, signed and witnessed below, as set forth hereunder:

… … …

("Is this entire thing going to be filled with run-on sentences?"

"What do you mean?" Fíli asked," That’s a perfectly reasonable statement written."

"Nevermind…")

… … …

I, the undersigned [referred to hereinafter as Burglar] agree to travel to the Lonely Mountain, oath to be determined by Thorin Oakenshield, who has the right to alter the course of the journey at his so choosing without prior notification, and/or liability for accident or injury incurred.

All conditions imposed herein are deemed to survive loss or destruction of this document, whether by accidental or willful mishap, fair means or foul, and any reconstruction, reworking, updating or improvements or additions made shall include a condition similar to this condition, nothwithstanding any repetition, redundancy, overstatement or implication hereby recognized or disclosed.

… … …

("My English teachers would be cringing right now."

"Rowan…"

"Yes, Bilbo, I’ll shut up now.")

… … …

Conditions subsequently appended or added to this Contract are automatically assumed to be agreed upon, as if they were present, read and understood at the signing and witnessing hereof.

Burglar may not modify or change the Agreement except by a writing signed by both parties.

… … …

("Please include the Company in that last line, Mister Balin. I’ll not have us dwarrows be accused of underhanded tactics."

"A reasonable demand, Fíli.")

… … …

(Revised) Burglar or Company may not modify or change the Agreement or any parts of this Contract except by a writing signed by both parties.

Each of the parties severally represents, warrants, and covenants that the party possesses the ability and right to enter this Agreement and fulfill the obligations set forth herein, and has not made any commitment with respect to the matters here discussed, that are in conflict with this Agreement

The aforementioned journey and subsequent extraction from the Lonely Mountain of any and all good, valuables and chattels [which activities are described collectively herein as the Adventure] shall proceed in a timely manner and with all due-care and consideration as seen fit by said Thorin Oakenshield and companions, numbering thirteen more or less, to wit, the Company.

No recompense for loss of income due to any extended absence applies. Burglar is ‘at the service’ of Thorin and Company until released therefrom.

Remedies shall similarly not be sought for any unlooked-for misfortune befalling Burglar’s home during his absence.

… … …

("No worries there, Bilbo, I’ve already taken care of that."

"What do you mean?"

"Before we left, I left instructions with Bell and Hamfast that should you come running after us, they are to look after Bag End and keep Lobelia out of it. Hamfast gave his word: he’ll upkeep the gardens for you and air out the house every now and then. And of course, I may or may not have threatened Bruno that if Lobelia sets one foot in Bag End, there would be _consequences_."

"… I don’t know whether to be impressed by your fore thinking, or horrified that you were so certain I’d come with…"

"Consider me impressed. At the very least, it won us a bet against my brother.")

… … …

Burglar holds harmless and without blame in perpetuity the Company and its successors for any notoriety, incarceration, or proceedings brought against, in regard to or as a result of the Adventure or any activities related thereto.

Also includes slander, libel, loss of face or social standing in country of Burglar’s origin.

Any and all damages brought against the Company, whether during the course of the Adventure or subsequently, shall be bourne by the Company and the Burglar on a pro-rata basis, but the reversal situation does not apply.

… … …

("Mister Balin, why would our Burglar be held responsible for any damage to the company, but we not held responsible if any harm comes to him?"

"Because, Fíli, Master Baggins is being hired as a third party contractor."

"That doesn’t excuse us singling him out and holding him to a different standard. Once he signs this contract, as far as I’m concerned he’ll be considered part of our company and so should be treated as such."

"Why, thank you."

"Don’t mention it, Master Bilbo, just doing my job as your representative."

"I agree with Fíli on this one. Get rid of that last line, Balin, and rewrite the clause so that both parties are held responsible."

"Very well…")

… … …

Cash on delivery, up to and not exceeding one fourteenth of the total profit [if any].

Not including any of the gross paid to other parties in lieu of royalties or help and provisions given or loaned.

… … …

("And _how_ exactly will that one fourteenth be divvied up for Bilbo?")

… … …

Wherefore and for which the Company promises the whole amount, to give and to pay to Burglar or to Burglar’s accredited messenger on fourteenth of total profits, if in gold then good and of correct weight, and if other than gold, then of good quality and of correct and proper measure, within one year of the completion of the Adventure.

Furthermore, the Company shall return any and all Recovered Goods until such a time as a full and final reckoning can be made, from which the Total Profits can then be established. Then, and only then, will the Burglar’s fourteenth share be calculated and divided.

… … …

("That works for me. What do you say, Fíli?"

"… what assurances does Mister Bilbo have that he will actually _receive_ his share of the total profits?"

"Well thought, young lad. Oh stop scowling, Thorin, you’re the one who insisted he be taught in the first place.")

… … …

If, however, the Company does not make good on payment herein set forth, Company becomes liable for the whole amount, to give to Burglar, making the stipulation, the penalty of the double of the said amount, the aforesaid conditions remaining as settled. Furthermore, Company pledges to Burglar as security for the foresaid promises all its goods existing and future.

The above is binding with the exception and special reservation that if the amount of goods, property, and merchandise paid thereby is transported by a third party [or indeed by parties of any other denomination of enumeration], whose safety cannot be guaranteed in any case, and furthermore the said goods, property and merchandise fail to arrive at the destination nominated by the Burglar, then and in such a case the present instrument is cancelled, voice, and of no value.

… … …

("Then I suppose it is a very fortunate that we have you, Miss Rowan, who specializes in such transportation of such."

"…I’m probably going to need a bigger truck…"

"A what?"

"My… armoured cart."

"Hold on a minute…"

"Yes, Master Gloin?"

"And what if the laddie does not even ask for the gold. What then?")

… … …

Let the present also be cancelled if the said Burglar refrains from asking or exacting payments of the aforesaid amounts of money, goods, property or merchandise for the space of one year after the time or the time limit has elapsed for asking, exacting or obtaining said payment.

Without limiting the foregoing, Burglar expressly and forever waives any and all claims that Burglar may now or hereafter have in respect and in any jurisdiction to the so-called "Moral Rights’ with respect to the Recovered Goods. Burglar understands that he embarks upon this Adventure at his own financial as well as personal risk.

… … …

("Very well, moving on.")

… … …

All traveling expenses guaranteed in any event.

[But refer to attached and appended conditions, clauses, and riders regarding any Return Journey]

‘Traveling Expenses’ shall be understood to mean base fare as seen fit by the Company. ‘Luxury’ catering or accommodation over and above this standard shall be enjoyed only at Burglar’s considerable [but justifiable] expense.

Burglar hereby accepts, warrants, and undertakes responsibility for his own shoes, clothing and personal effects for the duration of the Adventure.

… … …

("Shoes?! Why I never…")

… … …

Any item borrowed [intentionally or not] by Burglar during the Adventure shall be returned upon journey’s completion in condition or conditions similar to that/those when borrowed, or appropriate recompense made to the Company or its successors.

… … …

("You’ve a got a look about ye, Fíli. What’s on your mind?"

"I was just thinking, there should be reference to any _gifts_ that Mister Baggins might receive…")

… … …

Any items gifted [freely and willingly given] to Burglar shall henceforth be considered his personal property and are therein excluded from being returned upon conclusion of the Adventure.

Meals provided [or not] at the sole discretion of the Director, with due regard for availability, season, or any special dietary requirements not disclosed at the outset.

‘Meals’ here shall mean and shall be restrictedto breakfast, luncheon, and evening dinner. So called second breakfast, morning or afternoon tea, or late supper are not included.

… … …

("But speaking of special dietary requirements…"

"Rowan…"

"What?"

"It’s fine. Don’t even bring it up."

"But Bilbo-"

"No. And don’t you scowl at me, young lady.")

… … …

Company is prepared to sample Burglar’s wines, ales, beers, and mead; in short, any beverages of a non-perishable nature, and if found acceptable, to transport same beverages at Company’s own expense and for Company’s own consumption.

… … ...

("Oh no you don’t! Any food or beverage that belongs to Bilbo is his personal property and you shall not take it as your own! We have a word for that where I come from; it’s called _stealing_."

"Miss Rowan does have a point, Master Gloin. I recommend we scratch out that line entirely."

"Yes, Master Gandalf."

"Not that they left anything in my pantry anyways."

"What was that, Bilbo?"

"Nothing.")

… … …

Specialist equipment required in the execution of duties in his professional role as Burglar shall be purchased, procured, purloined, or obtained by Burglar, by whatsoever method Burglar sees fit.

It is assumed that Burglar will already possess and carry upon his person at all times an assortment of skeleton keys, wedges, pry-bars, masks, disguises, and other ‘Tools of the Trade’; and obtain same or remedy any deficiency by burglarious means and endeavors

… … …

("Why on earth would you assume that I have any of these items?! I already told you, I’ve never stolen a thing in my life."

"Oh it’s not so bad, Master Boggins. Think of it this way, now you have the excuse to steal however many keys and pry bars you want."

"It’s _Baggins_ , not Bogg- oh whatever.")

… … …

Company may provide for hire, equipment at its disposal. Rates to be negotiated at the time of hire.

… … …

("Fine by me. Just let me know whenever you want to hire out my non-existant troll-disguise.")

… … …

Weaponry not provided. Although the Adventure is, by its nature a stealthy undertaking, combat or self-defense is not unforeseeable, and indeed may become necessary, well-advised, important, imperative or inescapable. Accordingly, Burglar should arm himself as best befits his stature, ability, ferocity, bravery, timidity, conviction and determination.

Personal armour, mail, shields, vambraces, helmets and the like are similarly the Burglar’s own responsibility and shall be furnished by said Burglar.

… … …

("I do not think your doilies will prove much against any adversaries, halfling."

"Thorin, I think you’ll find yourself surprise by Bilbo’s tenacity. When the situation calls for it.")

… … …

Company may provide swords, arms, and the like for hire at rates to be determined at its sole discretion, and subject to change without prior notification.

Tranport provided in the form of one pony, to be returned in good condition at the conclusion of the Adventure [or monies paid in thereof]

Portage provided for one large or two medium-sized bags. Additional baggage incurs portage fee at current rates.

Portage rates for excess baggage on main trip calculated by linear dimensions or by weight, whichever is more expensive.

… … …

("Well, I’ve only got the one pack, so I think we’re good there.")

… … …

Pipeweed and other such luxury items shall be provided by Burglar; indeed not only for himself but the other members of the Company if such can be obtained along the way by means of pertinence to his profession.

… … …

"Excuse me, _what_?"

"I believe we’ve already went over the whole ‘stealing from Bilbo’ thing. If you want pipeweed, you can damn well get your own."

"We’ve all brought our own pipes and pipeweed anyways. There’s no need for Master Boggins to provide us any additional at his own cost."

"So _cross that out_ , Gloin.")

… … …

Lanterns, lamps, torches and any other equipment considered a fire risk shall be lit and operated by the fire safety officer nominated by the Company.

… … …

("Just out of curiosity, who _is_ the fire safety officer?"

"That would be me."

"Oh yeah, Gloin’s a regular old pyromaniac. You should see him when given free reign of the forge.

"Watch what ye say, boy.")

… … …

Return Journey is deemed outside the Terms of Reference encompassed herein and accordingly Burglar shall return to his place of residence by his own means, guidance, expertise and expense but with such directions, advice and goodwill as can be offered by the Company.

All provisions, expenses and necessaries for any return journey shall be sourced, found, and paid for by the Burglar. Provision of Transport for Burglar and/or portage of Burglar’s goods to be negotiated separately and are in no way included or implied herein.

… … …

("Don’t worry, Bilbo. I will personally be your guide on your way home."

"Thanks, Gandalf."

... … …

Funeral expenses to be defrayed by us or our representatives if occasion arises and the matter is not otherwise arranged for.

Transport of any remains, in whole or in part, back to the country of Burglar’s origin is not included.

… … …

("You alright there Bilbo? You’re looking a little pale…")

… … …

Base funeral to ‘commoner’ or peasant standard is allowed for only. Lavish ceremonies and jewelled or gilded coffins not provided. Plain pine box is normal standard.

… … …

(" _Jeweled or gilded coffins?_ Good gracious, is that common?"

"For a dwarf. Why, do hobbit’s do funeral different?"

"Very. Hobbits who have passed on are buried in the earth, without any coffin. We believe that we are merely returned to the earth’s embrace. That’s why our gravesites are filled with wild flowers."

"Fascinating. You’ll have to explain more hobbit customs to us at a later time. For now, I’ll make note of your preferences here. And you, Miss Rowan? Any traditions we should be aware of?"

"I’m actually the opposite of Bilbo. In my line, our bodies are always burned, so that our souls can pass onto our new life in the Otherworld."

"Otherworld?"

"I’ll explain later.")

… … …

In the event of Burglar’s untimely demise during the Adventure, burial will commence without pine box or coffin, in location of fine soil [if available] and given hobbit last rites.

In the event of Burglar companion’s untimely demise during the Adventure, any remains, in whole or in part, shall be burned to ashes by means of traditional pyre and given King’s Ranger last rites.

… … …

("It’s not ‘King’s Ranger last rites’ it’s Drui- oh whatever.")

… … …

Burglar shall devise means and methods to circumvent any difficulties arising from any illegal or illicit occupation or guardianship of Company’s righted home and property.

… … …

("Oh, we’re getting to the part about Smaug. And look here, Bilbo, you get to choose the exact way in how to deal with the dragon."

"That doesn’t make me feel any better, Rowan."

… … …

Successful disposal of any such guardian, creature or squatter in said home shall not necessarily earn any additional monetary or fiscal reward, but will definitely guarantee Burglar [if he survives] and Burglar’s family the undying gratitude and promise of service in perpetuity and forever of the Company and its successors.

Eviction or elimination of any undesirable guardian of Company’s property, goods, or premises or holdings shall take priority over the recovery of said property, goods, premises of holdings, should such a guardian be encountered. Elimination shall take priority over eviction in any and all cases.

… … …

("Does anybody else find it funny that in this whole contract, the word ‘dragon’ isn’t even mentioned once?")

… … …

A plaque shall be erected and dedicated in Burglar’s honor if he meets an untimely end in attempting this feat.

Material, size and location of such a plaque is to be determined at Burglar’s sole whim and desire.

Present Company is no obli-

… … …

("Think really, _really_ hard before you finish that sentence, Thorin. There’s a reason why my family name literally means ‘savages’ and I’m not afraid to act like it."

"You threaten-"

"Thorin Oakenshield, we are arguing here now _because_ of that sole line. And I will not stand for you sending Bilbo in to face the dragon all by himself."

"…Very well."

… … …

(Revised) Present Company shall assist Burglar with the removal of said undesirable guardian within reasonable measures.

Confidentiality is of utmost importance and must be strictly maintained at all times. During the course of his employment with the Company, Burglar will hear, see, learn, apprehend, comprehend, and in short, gain knowledge of particular facts, ideas, plans, strategies, theories, geography, cartography, iconography, means, tactics, and/or policies, whether actual, tangible, conceptual, historical or fanciful. Burglar undertakes and agrees to maintain this knowledge in utmost secrecy and confidentiality, and to neither divulge nor make known said knowledge by any means, including but not limited to speech, writing, demonstration, re-enactment, mime, or storage and retrieval within means or apparatus currently known or unknown or as yet unthought-of of.

… … …

("I guess that leaves out the Pensieve."

"The what?"

"Nevermind.")

… … …

Company may modify or change this agreement of Confidentiality from time to time at its sole discretion, with reasonable notice to Burglar

… … …

"Thank you for specifying that, Master Gloin.")

… … …

Early termination of this contract shall attract an early termination fee to be determined by Thorin and Company at their sole and absolute discretion. All clauses shall survive such termination and remain enforceable-

… … …

(" _Not_ all clauses. Just the confidentiality one. If this contract is terminated, I will not have Bilbo be held accountable to any of its clauses, except for that one."

"I agree with Rowan. _Just_ the confidentiality agreement will extend past this contract’s termination.")

… … …

(Revised) Confidentiality agreement contained herein shall survive such termination and remain enforceable in all countries whether existent now or in the future, throughout the known world.

Disputes arising between the contract parties shall be heard and judged by an arbitrator of the Company’s choosing, and all pleas shall be pleaded, shrewed, defended, answered, debated, and judged in the Common Tongue.

In the event of a dispute arising in relation to the terms of this agreement, the non-prevailing party shall reimburse the prevailing party for all reasonable fees and costs resulting therefrom.

If any provision of this Contract is held unenforceable, then such provisions shall be modified to reflect the parties’ intention. All remaining provisions of this Contract will remain in full force and effect.

If two or more provisions of this conflict, Company shall decide which shall take precedence.

Burglar agrees to execute all papers and to perform such other proper acts as Company may deem necessary to secure for Company or its Designee the rights herein assigned.

The failure by one party to require performance of any provision herein shall not affect that party’s righto require performance at any time thereafter, nor shall a waiver of any breach or default of this Contract constitute a waiver of any subsequent breach or default of waiver of the provision itself.

Wherefore each of the parties agree that any action in relation to an alleged breach of this Agreement shall be commenced within one year of the date of the breach, without regard to the date the breach is discovered. Any action not brought within that one year time period shall be barred, without regard to any other limitations period set forth herein.

Breaches of any provision or provisions of this contract by either party shall be heard, pleaded, debated, defended, answered and judged in a country of the Company’s choosing and a time and date of Company’s choosing.

… … …

("Hold it. I’ve got a problem with that. Should either Bilbo or you breach this contract, then only _you_ get to choose when and where it be judged? What’s stopping you from saying it should be in…oh say, Mordor next week? At about elevensies?"

"Now that’s just absurd, we wouldn’t-"

"But there’s nothing stopping you from doing it. And I won’t trust you not to unless it’s in writing."

"Perhaps, Mister Balin… we amend this part so that any judging is held in the nearest available country and at a reasonable date?"

"Good idea, lad."

… … …

(Revised) Breaches of any provision or provisions of this contract by either party shall be heard, pleaded, debated, defended, answered and judged in the nearest available country, at a reasonable date and time as can be afforded by both parties.

Burglar’s failure to appear constitutes acquiescence with Company’s ruling on the matter.

… … …

"Sorry to stop you again, but both parties shall be held accountable. Not just our Burglar, but we ourselves as the Company, also have the responsibility of appearing. If we do not show up, then Bilbo’s ruling on the matter will enforced."

… … …

(Revised) Should either party fail to appear, it then constitutes as acquiescence with opposite party’s ruling on the matter.

The Company may terminate this Contract for any reason by giving one day’s notice to the Burglar. Such termination will take effect upon the expiry of the notice period. The Company reserves the right to summarily terminate this Contract immediately upon notice or without notice at any time for any serious breach of the provisions contained herein by the Burglar.

This Agreement does not obligate the Company to seek out or retain the services of the Burglar for future undertakings. The Company makes no promises nor representations whatsoever as to the amount of business the Burglar can expect at any time in the future under this Agreement.

Burglar is in all respects an independent contractor, and not an employee, partner, or joint venture or subsidiary of the Company and is not entitled to pledge credit to the Company. The Burglar agrees that at no stage during or subsequent to the Termination of this Agreement will the Burglar claim that he is or was an employee of the Company.

… … …

("Umm Balin. At least _twice_ in this Contract, the word ‘employment’ is used, so Master Boggins _is_ an employee of the Company. And I’ve stated before, once he’s signed he is to be considered part of the Company."

"Fíli is right, Balin. There have been references to employment throughout the Contract. And Thorin, is Bilbo not joining the Company as a member?"

" _Fine_. Just cross that whole part out, then.")

… … …

Witnesses shall be nominated, chosen, and selected by the Director of the Company, currently Thorin Oakenshield

Contained herein [the Conditions of Engagement] all parties will sign or make their marks in the spaces provided for doing so, and affixing seals if applicable. The Witnesses to this Contract, being those others whose signatures, marks, or seals are affixed hereto, affirm, state and declare their understanding and unbiased agreement to all that is contained here.

… … …

("Is Balin allowed to be the Witness, since he’s writing the Contract?"

"Hmm, thanks for pointing that out. No, technically Balin is considered the Company and so is already one of the parties in the contract. He can’t sign as Witness."

"I can see we taught you too well, Fíli. Then who do you propose to be Witness?"

"Well, the only third party here is…"

"Hmm?"

"…Gandalf."

"Yes?"

"Gandalf, you’re the only third party present. You’ll have to sign as Witness."

"Not necessarily, young Master Fíli… There is one other here who is neither dwarf or Burglar."

"…"

"Why are you all staring at me?"

… … …

Adventure undertaken entirely at Burglar’s own risk. Present Company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof; including, but not limited to, lacerations, evisceration, incineration.

Signed: Thorin, Son of Thrain

Witnessed: Rowan Sauvageau, King’s Ranger

Signed: Bilbo Baggins of Bag End

… … …

Bilbo peered at the final copy of the Deed of Contract, more than a little bit worn out by the whole proceedings. By the Valar, that had taken at least an hour or two, though it felt much longer than that. His bottom was quite sore from sitting on the ground this entire time, though said nothing of it because no one else was mentioning any cramps or soreness. "I don’t see what was wrong with just signing my name," he noted, after Fíli had bullied him into at least mentioning his home.

"Makes it more formal," the younger dwarf shrugged. Bilbo hummed, but let the matter lie.

"Miss Rowan…" Balin called to the lass, who had been busy stretching out the muscles in her lower back," This is your signature, is it?"

"Hmm, oh yes. That’s my name," she replied. Balin frowned thoughtfully," Odd, I had thought it would’ve been… written differently. Sure you don’t want to write in your title?"

Pausing, Rowan raised an eyebrow. "My title? Nah, what I’ve written is title enough."

Bilbo chuckled," What, don’t want to write ‘King’s Ranger of the People of the Forest, Little Elf of the Shire’?"

"Bilbo, I _will_ push you off that pony."

"What pony, I’m not on- Hey!" Bilbo protested loudly when Kíli and Fíli suddenly swooped down and lifted him up by the arms onto a pony. The lads only laughed at his baffled expression. Rowan laughed even more so, mounting her own pony and pulling it side by side with him.

"Better get used to it," she said," You’re officially on an Adventure now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Rowan makes brief mention of Druidism, which is her way of life, and traditional funeral rights.   
> 2\. 'new life in the Otherworld'. Old Druidism is of the belief that there are two worlds. This world, and the Otherworld. Both are very real, with each considering the 'Otherworld' or 'Afterlife'. So when we die in one world, we are reborn in the other, and this continues on back and forth for however long the soul can. (Eons, even).   
> 3\. Druid funerals vary greatly throughout history. Some traditions call for burials, some for earthen burials (as I am headcanoning for hobbits) where the body is laid into the ground as it is so that the earth can benefit from it. Decomposing bodies also encourage plant growth and thus why hobbit graves are filled with wildflowers.   
> 4\. Rowan's family follows the old tradition of cremation, which has dated back centuries to the original funeral pyres shared by cultures all over the world.


	15. The

They were well on their way out of the Shire, heading for Bree and the lands beyond. They were behind schedule, much to Thorin’s disconcertion. While he was annoyed with the girl’s insistence that the Burglar’s contract be completely revised, he couldn’t argue against himself that he was proud of his eldest nephew.

Fíli had done well by his teachings, taking the initiative to join the debates and he held his own quite well against Balin and Gloin. Thorin glanced behind him at his nephews, watching as the younger patted his brother on the shoulder. Apparently Thorin wasn’t the only one proud of Fíli for his accomplishment, even if it _was_ in opposition of the Company.

"Thought it’d be many years before going against the lad in a contract brokering," Balin mused next to Thorin. Unlike the king, he was not attempting at all to hide his smile. "He’s clever, he is," he praised.

"Aye," Thorin nodded and this time could not hold back his small proud smile," You’ve taught him well, Balin." For Balin had been the boys’ tutor in many things, the most of which was their political teachings Something both boys did not find near as enjoyable as weapons training, but Balin’s had over 50 years to drill it over and over again into their heads. At least it was starting to look like it took with Fíli.

Balin took the compliment for what it was and nodded in thanks towards his king. But as Thorin rode ahead to take the lead of the convoy, Balin glanced behind them towards the twins. And the lass between them.

Rowan had been an unexpected and interesting addition to the brokering. While Balin was fairly certain the lass didn’t have any proper teachings –Balin learned long ago that Man often did not hold their women to the same standards, and so often they were bereft of proper education- she did just as well, if not _better_ than Fíli. Balin knew Thorin had been surprised by the girl’s tenacity and take charge manner, even if he wouldn’t even admit it.

She also apparently had a gift to find the loopholes, to see a single part in the contract and take it apart to its core. She had looked at clauses and found loophole after loophole, had seen the ways she could take advantage of a particular writing, and voicing –loudly- when it could be used _against_ her (or in this case, against Bilbo).

Balin always worried that Fíli would be too soft spoken in such matters, as he was the more even-tempered one of the twins and was more oft to sit and watch than yell just to be heard. (No, all the boisterousness and temper seemed to all go to Kíli, who proved just as much a handful as Thorin had in his youth). But Rowan had evened that out brilliantly, being just as loud as a dwarf would’ve been when she found a line that could prove disastrous to Master Baggins, thus giving Fíli his opening to revise it to their liking in a diplomatic manner.

Truly, Balin would _never_ have suggested any breaches of the contract be judged in _Mordor_ , but as the lass pointed out: what would’ve stopped him from doing so? Had they been of a more unreasonable and ruthless sort, they very well could’ve done so. It irked Balin that she thought they would dare to do so, but then again, he was proud because that precautious nature would serve her well when going up against more ruthless foes in such a matter.

He pondered briefly the possibility of her ever doing such again…

… … …

Bree, was unfortunately, everything Rowan had been expecting. A city on the crossroads, which meant people of all sorts and manners. It must’ve rained just the day before, because the streets were still filled with mud. She was at least thankful for the fact that they were on ponies, or else they’d be the ones squelching through it in their boots. (If she were on a horse, she’d be even further from the mud).

And Bree had a… peculiar smell. It was more than just the mud, but my, did it reek! Like an old barn that hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. Rowan had always had a peculiar sense of smell; she had a good sense of smell. Not in the sense that she could track by it, or that she could catch the barest whiff of something days gone. No, Rowan could _identify_ smells. She could smell something and immediately interpret what it exactly was.

At the moment, she really _really_ wished she didn’t have this talent. Rowan wrinkled her nose and discreetly brought the collar of her tunic up to try and block the smells out. Goddess, she could identify them all! Like an old barn that hasn’t been cleaned in a long time, there was rotten and moldy hay, livestock manure, and of course the horrid body odor from anyone who happened to pass by too close. To be fair, she wasn’t the only one suffering, if Bilbo’s wrinkled up nose and look of disgust was anything to go by.

If she never set foot in Bree again after this, well that would be alright with her.

Luckily there was a stable near the inn, where they paid to have their ponies taken care of for the night. (Bofur had to pull her away from the horses nearby). And the Company headed to the inn. Rowan glanced up as they entered through the door and a smile passed over her face when she saw the words _‘The Prancing Pony’_.

It was just as loud inside as it was out, but more of a happy din than anything. Everywhere Rowan looked people were drinking merrily and laughing, no matter of race or size. A hobbit even ran past her, his hands full of tankards, and when he reached his table (a mixture of other hobbits and even a couple Men) a big burly man happily lifted him up onto the tall chair.

There were even a few other dwarves at the bar, apparently having a drinking contest.

(Near Rowan, she heard Kíli mutter under his breath," Thirteen dwarrows, a wizard, a Man, and a halfling walk into a bar…" and she shared a quick chuckle with him. But when he caught her laughing too, he had to grin and add," The hobbit laughs and walks under it." This time even Nori and Bofur heard his joke and all four of them chuckled madly, trying to be quiet so Thorin wouldn’t hear.)

As leader of the Company, Thorin was the one to approach the counter to ask for accommodation. The innkeeper was a joyful sort, with a massive beard (worthy by even dwarvish standards) and an even bigger grin.

"Can I get a room for you, Master Dwarf?" he asked Thorin good-naturedly. But when twelve more dwarrows, a woman, a wizard, and a hobbit lined up behind him, the smile fell off the innkeeper’s face. Rowan grinned but otherwise kept silent; bet he wasn’t expecting a small army to step into the Prancing Pony.

"Have you accommodation for all of us?" Thorin asked, unperturbed by the Man’s shock.

The innkeeper quickly became crestfallen," I’m afraid I have not a room with enough beds for all of you."

Bofur, always ever so helpful and the optimistic wonder that he was, exclaimed," That’s alright! We’ve bedrolls and can sleep on the floor if need be!" Someone elbowed him and someone else (who sounded suspiciously like Oín) grumbled," Speak for yourself, git."

But Thorin was already settling matters with the innkeeper, agreeing to a single large room with a few beds. Rowan suspected a good number of them would be fighting over who took them. Then the man’s eyes roved over the group of them and asked," Will the lady be needing a separate room?"

All heads turned. Admittedly, it took Rowan an embarrassingly long time to realize he was speaking about _her_. "What?" she blinked, wondering why everyone was staring at her," Oh, me?" She frowned," Why would I need a separate room?"

A couple dwarves coughed awkwardly.

"Oh get your minds out of the gutter!" she snapped, both insulted and frustrated," I’m not some prissy bitch who needs her own room. As long as you all keep it in your pants, then we won’t have any problems. I can sleep on the floor, same as any of you." Bofur cheered wholeheartedly while Ori blushed scarlet and Dori tutted as her brusque manner. Everyone else just chuckled.

"Well there we have it," Gandalf nodded his head sagely, as if he had done it all himself," Let us retire for the night, shall we?"

… … …

As predicted earlier, a large-scale argument erupted over who would get the six beds. Or rather, the _five_ beds, as it was unanimously decided that Thorin would get one. It would’ve been reduced down to four, because a few of the old-fashioned gits thought that Rowan should take one. On account of being a Lady. (Read: Dori’s doing). Yet she took one look at the straw mattress and itchy blankets, said "Fuck it," and claimed the floor in front of the hearth.

Fíli and Kíli teamed up and claimed one of the two Man-sized beds for themselves, sitting on top of it stubbornly. Every time one brother was pulled or shoved off, the other would just crawl back up and take his place. Eventually they all got tired of the trying, so the brother’s won the bed squarely.

Gandalf quietly and calmly sat on the remaining Man-sized bed. No one dared argue against him and Rowan was pretty sure she heard Nori utter," Don’t wanna be turned into a toad or other."

As for the other beds, Bombur simply laid down on one, and no matter how the others tried he could not be budged. Then somehow Balin managed to verbally coerce the others into _giving_ him the last bed. Something about an old dwarf’s back, creaking bones, and some such. Dwalin raised an eyebrow but said not a word, instead turning to roll out his bedroll on the floor.

The others followed suit; some grouching (Gloin, Oín, and Dori) and some cheerfully (Bofur and Ori). After which it didn’t take long for the room to fill with snoring. One of Rowan’s eyebrows rose when Bilbo followed her suit and situated himself by her and the fire. It was a good idea; the fire was warm and the comfort of being next to someone familiar she could correlate with. Just having Bilbo near was a comfort, despite her knowing that the Company were not enemies. She _knew_ Bilbo; she didn’t know the dwarrows yet.

"Day one," she whispered as Bilbo laid his head down on his pack. Honey colored eyes glanced up at her, and he let out a loose chuckle. "Day one…" he repeated softly before closing his eyes. Within seconds, he was fast asleep.

Rowan couldn’t help but smile and shake her head. Although, she supposes it _was_ kinda an exhausting day for him. A company of dwarrows tends to be that way.

Though she was tired herself, she took her time getting ready for bed. The fire was warm so she shed her outer cloak and coat until she was down to her dark blue tunic and soft leather pants. (She missed her jeans, but they weren’t exactly the most comfortable thing to wear when riding horses –okay, _ponies_ \- so for now they were relegated to her pack). Next came off her boots and socks, taking a pleasurably long time to unlace them. Her toes wiggled in the open air, the stretch after being cramped for hours feeling quite enjoyable.

Lastly, she reached up and pulled her hair out of its ponytail, letting the loose waves fall around her shoulders. She hated ponytails; hated the way it pulled at her hair and scalp and often times gave her a headache. But… Rowan had a lot of hair, and without them it would only get in her way all the time. So at the end of the day, taking that ponytail out was the greatest feeling in the world.

Already the tension was ebbing; she tousled her hair a bit to shake it loose and nearly purred.

" _Mahal,_ maybe you _should’ve_ gotten your own room…"

Hand still tangled in her hair, Rowan looked up and saw Fíli staring at her with a smirk on his face. "Hmm?" she hummed in question, continuing to brush her fingers through the locks. She wished she remembered to bring a brush, but it was too late to turn back and get it. When he offered no explanation, she asked," Shouldn’t you be asleep like your brother?" Who was contentedly snoring up a storm on Fíli’s other side.

"And miss that show?" Fíli flashed a grin, and the only likeness Rowan could come up with was ‘wolfish’. "Do you always do that before bed?"

Satisfied with her hair –or as much as she would get tonight- Rowan stretched and laid stomach down on her bedroll so that she was facing him. "I usually prefer to bathe before bed," she answered honestly and felt a sudden longing for her bathtub at home, so very impossibly far away. "With my bath salts and oils; lavender and jasmine to relax, and rosemary just because I like the smell," she mused, the memory of those long luxurious soaks sounding so heavenly right now. Oh how she couldn’t wait until she got a proper, hot bath again. It feels like it’s been ages.

Fíli made a strange noise in the back of his throat. "You, uh…" he suddenly coughed," you’re really at ease here, aren’t you?"

She _was_ at ease, and currently quite comfortable with the low fire heating her back, and said as much. "I’ve camped in worse spots," she added," Though mountain slopes are not my favorite." Often too rocky and if she didn’t angle herself right, she’d risk rolling downhill in her sleep. Luckily, her father taught them all about such things from a young age, and Rowan realized that she’d probably have to now teach them to Bilbo if he was to make it out in the wilds.

"That’s not quite what I meant," Fíli corrected her, propping himself up onto his elbows and half leaning off the bed," I meant with us. You know, us _males_ , most without wives. What if I hadn’t been the only one awake when you…"

"When I what?"

"When you, uhh, when you… with all your clothes… and then your hair…"

It took Rowan a second before it clicked and when it did a wolfish grin broke her complexion. " _Fíli,_ is your mind in the gutter?"

"No, it’s not!" he denied so quickly that it made her giggle. A beat passed, then he asked," What gutter?" A loud "Ha!" escaped her before she could muffled the rest of her guffaws in her arms. And still her shoulders shook with the force of her laughter.

Amid giggles, she gathered enough of herself to leer at him and say," Dirty thoughts," with raised eyebrows. Then collapsed in giggles at his utterly scandalized face.

"Stop it, it’s your fault!" he whispered furiously at her, his face a lovely shade of pink underneath all that blonde beard and mustache," You’re the one who started taking your clothes off and waving your hair about, and talking about baths and oils."

Oh, he was just too precious for this world, looking all flustered and flummoxed, the very opposite of what a dwarf was supposed to look like, and she laughed all the harder for it.

It took a good long while before she could get herself back under control. Enough time for Fíli to school himself, and just when it seemed like she was calmed down enough, he said dryly," Well you’re having a grand old time, aren’t you?" And that only ended up setting her off again into another fit of giggles.

Let it never be said that giggles weren’t contagious, for he soon joined in laughing with her. "Stop making me laugh!" she pleaded," My sides hurt!" So he waited patiently, very careful _not_ to say anything or else risk her laughing even more.

"Better?" he finally asked when after a deep breath she was able to look up with a mostly straight face. Well, at least she’d stopped laughing, but that grin of hers wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. "Better," she nodded, then clutched her ribs," Ohh, I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed that hard."

His voice was dry, like his uncle’s when making joking," Glad to be of service. Though it’s usually Kíli who makes people laugh." But Kíli was sleeping, and he wasn’t the one she was grinning at.

"I’m sorry, but you were just so flustered and blushing; I couldn’t help myself."

Why his embarrassment humored her so, he’d probably never know and Fíli doubted he wanted to. Still, he wasn’t terribly upset with it at all, smiling wryly back at her and shaking his head lightly. Rowan supposed he wasn’t always the source of someone’s laughter, his sense of humor based more on sarcasm and dry humor, much like his Uncle. Kíli was the one who liked to tell jokes.

She yawned suddenly, but continued to smile. "That felt nice," she said, but wasn’t talking about the yawn. Though she did feel another break loose. "Hmm, I do believe you’ve worn me out," she hummed, just to see that blushing look of his again. When he opened his mouth, presumably to make another sarcastic comment, she chuckled," Shush. Out of the gutter. I’m just tired, is all."

"Again, all your fault."

"I was simply getting ready for bed."

"And your talk of baths and tousling your hair?"

She gave him a sideways look. "You take a bath with salts and oils and tell me you don’t miss it." Judging by his baffled expression, she guessed he’s never heard of such a thing. Probably thought a bath was just soap and water, nothing more. Even now, she could see him mouthing ‘Salt? In bathwater?’

"Goodnight, Fíli," she said after another yawn overtook her. She really _was_ exhausted and felt like she could sleep for days. Laying her head down on her arms, Rowan kept her eyes open just long enough to see him flop onto his back. With the movement, he must’ve accidentally elbowed or nudged Kíli, who snuffled in his sleep and shoved back at his brother.

She almost didn’t hear him whisper back "Goodnight," before she closed her eyes and knew no more.

… … …

　

 


End file.
